An Uneasy Alliance
by Frankie in Like
Summary: What seems a routine trip to save yet another city from darkspawn just may end up awakening old memories and reopening old wounds for the Hero of Ferelden.  Will she ever find more than heartache and emptiness?  Cullen/Amell, past Alistair/Amell.
1. Dreams

**Author's Note:** This story follows the Hero of Ferelden, human mage background, nine years after the defeat of the Archdemon and only a couple of months after the final events in Dragon Age 2. I just had to write a story on the mage Hero and Cullen, because he seemed so cute and sweet in the Circle and when he mentions the Hero in DA2 ("She was a special woman... Never met her like again" d'aww...), and I love the idea of him hating himself for wanting a mage ;)

*I unfortunately never got to play all of the Awakenings expansion, so I'm probably not going to incorporate much of the events and characters (aside from Anders and Nathaniel) from that expansion into the story. It's nothing against them, in fact I really loved Sigrun, I just don't want to screw up the characters and storyline with my shoddy, incomplete memories ;) **** Update:** So in the... _two_ years? since I wrote this, I played Awakenings all the way through and so I may be going back not only to update the story of typos and inconsistencies, but also to add in a little more fullness to the back story where it pertains to Awakenings. It's good to be back :)

**Disclaimer:** I don't claim to own any part of Dragon Age, only my original characters.

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><p><em>Alistair's eyes, those beautiful green eyes Tori had once loved so much – no, <em>still_ loved so much – were brimming with sorrow. His forehead was creased in pain as he looked down at her, pain that she knew was mirrored in her own face._

_This was it, it was over between them. The very thing they had fought so hard for this past year – the safety and unity of Ferelden – is the very thing that wrenched them apart. He was King now, married to Queen Anora, and she was the newly-made Commander of the Grey, and a mage at that. Whatever they had once had had to be forgotten in the face of duty and propriety._

"_I'm… I'm so sorry, Tori, but this is how it has to be," his voice broke and he looked away. He had always been so sensitive, barely a man in both years and hardness. She had loved that about him, the tender hesitance with which he kissed her, the vulnerability as he gazed into her eyes, ran a finger down her cheek, slowly unbuttoned her shirt…_

_Fighting the Archdemon had nearly cost her her life despite Morrigan's dark ritual, and yet that endless battle seemed so easy now, compared to this. Her battle wounds had healed into livid scars, but how could she ever heal heartbreak? How could magic and doctoring ever soothe the burning ache in her chest that made her want to cry, to scream, to tear at her skin and throw things across the room like any normal girl her age would?_

_But Tori was no longer a girl, she was a woman. She had left the Circle with Duncan when she was nineteen, and now she was nearly twenty-one years old. She had loved a man, had given everything she had in her heart and her mind to him, had fought a war and made decisions many rulers never had to face, had killed countless people, and now she had had her heart broken. She was a woman now._

_Toriana couldn't speak, couldn't bear to look in his face any longer. Large brown eyes threatened to overflow with tears, but she choked them back as she stared dully at her boots. She didn't want to lose him, but if she couldn't have him she at least didn't want to part on bad terms. It just wouldn't be fair to either of them, considering what they had shared._

"_I understand," she said softly, corners of her eyes creasing with the effort of holding back the urge to scream at him. She hadn't wanted him to become King! She knew that he and Anora ruling together was the best choice they could have made for the country, but that selfish, dark part of her hadn't wanted him to become King, because she knew it would mean losing him. And still she had announced Anora's plan – for it was the Queen who had come up with the idea, after Tori showed reluctance to make her the sole ruler of Ferelden – to the Landsmeet, and the marriage had gone as planned._

_She hated Anora._

_She hated Eamon, for supporting the idea.  
><em>

_More than that, she hated herself for going along with it. She hated Alistair, for charming her with his sweet words and tender caresses, with his admission of love and that look that said he wanted to be with her forever. She hated herself for falling for him, even as she knew what they had was doomed to fail._

_And she hated him even more now, because instead of walking away and leaving it at that (why couldn't he just let it be?), he opened his arms to her and pulled her into an embrace that finally forced the tears from her eyes. His arms were so gentle, as if he thought she might break, and his breath stirred her hair and made her want to hold him and never, ever let go, Ferelden and the Grey Wardens be damned. He whispered apologies into the top of her head, his voice sounding just as broken as she felt. Her scalp prickled as his tears dropped into her hair, his heartbeat _whoosh_ing in her ears._

_But Tori didn't have the option__ to give in to that selfish part of her mind. There were people who depended on them, on him more so than her, and her sense of duty would not let her run off with him, no matter how much her heart begged for it. With a heavy, shaky breath she pushed him away and turned before he could see her wet cheeks._

"_No. Goodbye Alistair," she murmured before she strode for the door._

"_I'll always love you."_

_Those words stung. They stung more than when he ended the relationship, more than when he said he was sorry. They sunk into her soul and wrenched her apart from the inside out, till she could no longer hold back the sob that had stuck in her throat. In an instant, she was out of her temporary room in the Royal Palace, running down the halls like a mage possessed._

_As she ran down the back steps of the palace, the ones the servants used, the tears dried and c__racked on her cheeks until she stopped in the quiet, nearly empty royal gardens. By the time she slinked into a small thicket of rose bushes to curl up away from any other people, thorns scratching her skin and pulling at her hair, she had no more tears left. She only felt empty. Just empty._

Toriana woke with a start, and before she even fully realized she had been dreaming, anger flooded her veins. She had gone for nearly a whole year without dwelling on Alistair, dwelling on that morning, and now it was all she could do not to grab the empty bottle of rum from her bedside table and throw it at the wall in fury. She didn't need this, she didn't need the memories or that all-to-familiar ache in her chest. She was _done_ being hurt.

After nine years, you would have thought her mind would give her a break.

A glance at her window told her it was not long before sunrise, and considering she had been up half the night drinking and joking with the few Grey Wardens that remained in Vigil's Keep, she had likely only had a couple of hours of sleep. It wasn't new to her, as sound sleep came rarely to Grey Wardens anyways; dreams of darkspawn and the Archdemon filled her head most nights - sometimes Grey Warden dreams, and sometimes her memories of the horrors she'd seen during the Fifth Blight - but she had gradually gotten used to it over the many years. Tonight's dream was far more scarring than any dream of the darkspawn could be, and with a sigh she knew she would not be able to fall back asleep.

As Tori washed her face in the bowl of water on her table and pulled on her clothes and armor for the day, she forced her features to remain calm despite her inner turmoil. She fought back the memories of Alistair's kisses, the sweet nothings he had once whispered in her ears, the first night they had made love – for that's what it had been, not just sex but a bonding of two kindred spirits, a display of trust as they both gave to each other what they had never before given to any other.

She pushed it from her mind, and found she also had to fight back an ache deep in her gut. The thoughts of Alistair's touch made her whole body heat up and a sweat break out on her brow. Inexperienced as he had been, he had been eager to please, to learn, and in the time they were together they explored every inch of each other, had found the sensitive spots and the certain places that made the other gasp and twist and beg for more.

With a frustrated shake of her head, Toriana slid her breastplate of cured high dragonhide over her head and began buckling the complex closures that would keep it snug against her body. Putting on her armor took nearly ten minutes, which she would normally see as a waste of time if it weren't for the fact that it used to take her thirty minutes when she first began wearing armor instead of simple robes.

A quick study in the mirror proved everything to be in order and looking proper, and Toriana left her room for the mess hall. A bit of tea and some biscuits would help clear her head.

It proved to be a tiring day, what with people constantly stopping to ask her questions on what should be done about various situations, or who should be consulted on certain matters, or simply people looking for her input or advice. The pinnacle of the day, however, was the report she received from a young Warden with a request for aid from the Free Marches.

Apparently the city of Kirkwall was being antagonized by a large group of darkspawn striking from the Deep Roads, led by a rather clever emissary, and they no longer had the strength to fight them off. Tori had heard of the terrorist act that had caused the death of countless innocents in the Kirkwall Chantry, and of course she knew of the mages' rebellion against the templars, so the request for help came as no surprise.

Even with Kirkwall's strong guard base, their templars – which Tori had been irritated to learn held most of the power in the city – were weakened from the massive rebellion that had occurred only months earlier and they were certainly in no condition to fight off darkspawn. It was up to the Grey Wardens to protect them.

The Warden-Commander sent word with the messenger that a small group of Wardens would be traveling with her to the city of Kirkwall in two days' time. That would give her enough time to make arrangements for Vigil's Keep until she returned – she would leave it under Nathaniel's care, he knew how to run the place, and she didn't intend to be gone longer than a few months. It had been nearly a year since her last expedition, and she ached for some action. Day-to-day affairs of running the Fereldan Grey Wardens got tiring, and boring as well. She needed a little excitement.

And perhaps the fighting would keep her mind too preoccupied to think about Alistair.


	2. Haunted

**Author's Note: **This chapter is probably going to seem very disjointed and badly written. Forgive me, but I have a reason: I was distracted the whole time by delicious ice cream and a very large, very pissed off wasp caught between the window and screen right behind my computer. Seriously, that wasp looks like it would slaughter everyone I love if it had the chance. And then eat them. And then slowly sting me to death.

I'm not a fan of wasps. At least it's trapped and will hopefully die a slow, painful death before it gets so hot that I'm forced to open the window and spray it to death with oven cleaner. Because I do not have the courage for these sorts of things!

And lastly, as a warning, this chapter is _not safe for work_.

**Disclaimer:** I don't claim to own any part of Dragon Age, only my original characters.

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><p>"I request to come with you on the trip to Kirkwall, Warden-Commander."<p>

Toriana looked up from where she had been eating her lunch and pretending to read a report on the supplies in Vigil's Keep (when in actuality her mind was drifting to a rather intriguing book she had fallen asleep reading the night before). A man who looked only a bit younger than she looked down at her from where he was standing straight-backed in full armor.

Toriana recognized the boy – the brother to the Champion of Kirkwall, was he not? Hawke. She couldn't recall his first name – she hadn't overseen his Joining, and didn't know much of the boy. From the little she had seen of his swordplay skills, he wasn't anything to be terribly impressed by, although he by no means bad. She wouldn't expect any less from the brother of someone so famously spoken of as a terror on the battlefield.

Dropping her spoon, Tori waited until she had finished chewing the potatoes in her mouth before she answered him bluntly and with little remorse. "The party has already been chosen, Hawke, I'm afraid you'll have to wait until the next trip."

She instantly saw the petulant way he stiffened his jaw and stuck out his bottom lip ever-so-slightly. Dark blue eyes in a square face flashed, "My name is Carver, Commander, Hawke is what my sister goes by." Well. Apparently that had struck a nerve.

Toriana shrugged, unaffected by his rather insubordinate response (she wasn't a big one on strict obedience when it came to manner – after all, how could she be harsh on someone for how they acted when she never punished Oghren, of all people?). "That does not change the fact that I have everyone I need, serah Carver. You may go on the next patrol we send there." She waved her hand dismissively, already returning to her food.

But of course Carver would not let it go, Tori was never lucky enough for people to just _let it go_. "Commander, please!" He was sounding a bit too whiny now.

"No."

"Kirkwall is my home! I haven't been there for nearly two years! I haven't been back since the attack!" His voice was rising, and she could hear the desperation in his voice. He clearly wasn't going to give this up any time soon.

Tori threw up her hands and shook her head in annoyance, "Fine, come if you must! We leave at daybreak tomorrow, and you'll be carrying your own things." She yanked irritably on one of the braids in her hair as she stared him directly in the face, making him swallow and look a little nervous, "But you have to learn one thing, little Warden: Kirkwall is _not_ your home any longer. The Grey Wardens are your home."

And with that stern reminder, Tori picked up her plate of food and the report and stalked out of the mess hall and up to her room for some damned privacy.

The rest of the day Toriana spent locked up in her room, reading reports and occasionally going off task to read one of her books (she was only human, and you could only work so long before you cracked). She fell asleep rather early, not long after reading a message sent from Queen Anora saying she would be sending the King to Vigil's Keep in two weeks on a diplomatic trip. Tori was relieved she wouldn't have to make up a fake excuse to not be present for his visit, as she always did in the past when Alistair came. Call her a coward, but she still wasn't ready to face him again. She didn't think she ever would be.

"_I've never done this with anyone. I want it to be with you."_

_Tori's breath hitched in her throat as he whispered in her ear. His breath was hot on her neck, sending shivers down her spine as it contrasted with the cool air of the camp. A spike of nervousness shot through her – she had never had sex before, and the thought of it now made her tense up in anxiety. But it felt so right, to do it with him…_

"_Come on," she murmured, taking Alistair's hand and leading him to her tent on the edge of camp. Once they were kneeling inside, there was a moment of awkwardness as they looked at each other. It was broken when Alistair leaned forward to kiss her. It was so soft, so tentative, that Tori's heart swelled with love and began to hammer wildly against her ribs. When she put her hands on his muscled chest, she felt the same fluttering of his heart._

_As his arms encircled her and his hands rubbed the tense muscles in her back, one of Tori's hands grasped at the short hair at the back of his neck while the other clenched the shirt on his back. The kiss turned from tentative to needy as she opened her mouth and their tongues met. Bre__aths came out ragged when they pulled away for air and Alistair lowered his mouth, planting hot kisses down the arch of her neck._

_Tori lifted his shirt, trailing her fingers down his chest and flat stomach to rest at the top of his pants and caress the soft, sensitive skin below his belly button. She could feel his breathing grow more labored, even as he continued to trail kisses and soft nibbles along her collarbone. With a smooth movement, she pulled his shirt up over his head and let him pull her robe off in turn, leaving her in just her underclothes._

_Hi__s eyes widened as he looked down at her body and she felt a rush of self-consciousness, shifting nervously and fighting the urge to throw her robes back on. "What?" she breathed, biting her lip and almost wishing she weren't almost naked in front of his roaming eyes. Almost._

_Alistair looked up at her and apparently recognized the anxiety on her face, because he shook his head and smiled, "You're so beautiful," he murmured before he pulled her into another kiss._

_It certainly wasn't a perfect night, not at all what Tori had expected for her first time. Mostly, it was full of awkwardness and fumbling, nervous and embarrassed laughter, and pain on her part. In the beginning as they were kissing fervently, Tori attempted to undo the belt at his waist. Perhaps she was nervous, or simply was bad at removing another's clothes, because her fingers felt swollen and clumsy and she couldn't seem to get the damn buckle undone._

_After a few minutes, she let out a frustrated and embarrassed huffing sort of noise and Alistair paused in his gentle nibbling of her ear with a breathy chuckle and reached down and helped her. One look at his completely naked body make her heart skip a beat and she swallowed nervously. He was long and hard and Tori couldn't help but wonder how in the Maker's name _that_ would fit inside of her. She wasn't completely clueless, they had learned rudimentary anatomy and reproduction information in the Tower (some people learned more than others...), but she had never actually _seen_ an actual... _in person_.  
><em>

_He didn't notice her hesitation, as he was busy untying the chest wrap she wore to keep her breasts restrained during battle. Both of their breathing picked up once her top half was bear – his in excitement and hers in anxiety. This was supposed to be a special moment, was it not? And yet all she could think was that she hoped he didn't notice the ugly bruise on her stomach from that run-in with a hurlock the other day, or how her stomach stuck out slightly in a round bump, or how her left breast was slightly larger than her right and the nipple did that weird puckery thing... Her mind was racing a mile a minute, and that made her feel guilty that she was not as aroused as her lover appeared to be, which only made her mind race with anxiety even more._

_Alistair bent to take a nipple in his mouth and her thoughts were almost completely washed away at the wave of delight that surged through her. As he kissed his way back up her chest and neck to nibble along her jawline, Tori's breathing picked up even more, and now it was because of the aching heat that was growing between her legs._

_She wanted to make him feel as wonderful as he made her feel. Unsure of exactly what she was doing, she reached down and wrapped her hand around him (which made her wonder yet again how it was going to fit without injuring her), and was rewarded by his strangled gasp against her cheek. He was… hot. And hard. Like steel coated in smooth, velvety skin. She decided she rather liked the feel of it, how her hand fit around it perfectly and how it throbbed with his heartbeat when she began to stroke him._

_Alistair's hands froze from where they had been trailing teasing patterns on her back and his breathing became labored on her neck where he had buried his face. His hips jerked when she trailed an experimental thumb over the tip of his manhood, and Tori couldn't keep the smile from her face. She had to say, she quite liked this. She understood why Myrna back at the Tower had such a fascination with cavorting with any male she could coax into an unused room or a supply closet.  
><em>

_After a few minutes of her caressing him, Alistair broke the pant-filled silence with a hoarse whisper, "I… I-I need you," he groaned against her neck, "Now. I-I don't know how much longer I can take this."_

_And just like that Toriana went from semi-confident and enjoying herself right back to nervous and practically terrified. She swallowed as hard as she could and, trying to maintain her veneer or calm, reached up with both hands to pull Alistair's face to where she could kiss him. His hand was on the back of her neck, buried in her hair – which had long come undone from its usual pigtails – as he kissed her in earnest._

_Gently, with his other hand on her back to keep her from falling, he lowered her back onto her bedroll, keeping his full weight off of her body with elbows on either side of her. Tori could feel his erection, swollen and needy, pressing against the inside of her thigh, and she looked up at Alistair, unable to withhold her wide-eyed look._

_He noticed her expression and his face softened and turned into a look of worry as he pulled away from her enough to study her face, "Are you frightened? Is it too soon?" he asked quickly, his concern making her heart swell with love as she realized that even as aroused as he was he was willing to stop if she said the word._

"_No," she murmured, with a small and somewhat shaky smile, "I want this." It was true, at that moment there was nothing she wanted more than to become one with him, to give everything she had to give to this man. But she couldn't keep the note of nervousness out of her voice._

_Alistair's face cracked into a sheepish, lopsided grin, "If it makes you feel any better, I'm rather terrified as well?" They both shared embarrassed, nervous laughter, and that only made her want him more. She pulled him down into a kiss that was full of all the love and tenderness she felt for him. When they broke apart, his eyes were slightly glazed with desire. "W-we can take this slowly," he swallowed, "Just tell me and I will stop."_

_Tori shook her head and pulled him closer, so that his hardness was pressed against the heat of her. He didn't need more encouragement, and they worked together to pull her underwear off, as he seemed to have lost his abilities at coordination. She guided him to her entrance, and that first push inside of her hurt – oh, Maker it hurt! – and she twisted under him in an effort to keep herself from crying out and to attempt to find a less painful position, but to no avail._

_Her movement apparently felt good for Alistair, because he sucked in a large breath and trembled slightly on top of her. Tori wrapped her arms around him and buried her face into his shoulder, which because of his height advantage was the closest thing, to hide her biting her lip from the pain – she didn't want to ruin it for him, and she was hoping that the burning pain would lessen as they continued._

_It didn't. Even with his initially slow, careful rocking, the pain lessened but did not go away. As his tempo increased, she clung to him and willed all the pleasure she could imagine into him. She wanted him to fully enjoy it even if she couldn't. She didn't dislike it, minus the pain – it was extremely intimate and definitely an act of trust, and if there was any way to avoid the pain she wanted to try it again…_

_It didn't take as long as she had expected before his whole body tensed above her and he stifled his moan by burying his face in her hair, whispering her name in such a breathless, loving way that she didn't regret the act at all. In fact, the pain and discomfort had almost completely gone away by the end._

_When he pulled himself out of her, she felt a strange sense of loss and emptiness and kept her arms around him to stop him from moving off of her. He reluctantly settled his weight as carefully as he could, as if he thought he might crush her. Tori pulled him down for another kiss before she pressed her forehead to his and closed her eyes._

"_You know, according to all the sisters in the monastery, I should have been struck by lightning by now."_

_Toriana snorted in a very unladylike way. She had a thing or two she could say about the Chantry and their ridiculous lies... She opened her eyes to see Alistair grinning in that goofy way of his. "That so?" she murmured, smiling coyly._

_Alistair laughed, eyes twinkling, "Yup, lightning first, then the end of civilization as we know it. I'm a bad, bad man." Tori couldn't help but laugh with him before she pulled him into another, lighter kiss. He always said the right things to make her laugh, to make her forget her awkwardness and self-consciousness. She loved him, more than anything._

Toriana awoke with dried tears staining her cheeks and an dull pain in her chest. Would she never be able to escape that man? Would he continue to haunt her dreams for the rest of her life?

She couldn't afford to dwell on it. Dragging herself out of bed, she began to dress and get ready for the day.

She had a long boat ride ahead of her.

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><p><strong>Hah! You guys thought that was gonna be a steamy, mind-blowing sex scene with Alistair, didn't you? Not a chance! I get realistic when it comes to sex, sorry to all you romantics out there! xD Also, I suck at writing smut. Next sex scene will be better? I hope?<strong>


	3. Welcome to Kirkwall

**Author's Note:** Alright, I've gone back and edited the chapter of its errors, and now it's ready to peruse! Enjoy the rather vicious sparks that fly between Tori and Cullen ;D

And thank you to those who reviewed, you give me warm and fuzzy feelings to feed to my muse moose.

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><p>Toriana was a little irked to see that Carver made it to the courtyard in time before they left – she had intended to leave him behind if he was late. She didn't want the damned man with her - she had her group picked, after all - and had only acquiesced to shut him up. She only hoped he wasn't always as stubborn as he had been the night before.<p>

The trek to the Amaranthine docks was short, and they boarded a small merchant vessel called _The Swift Wind_ that Tori had arranged to receive a ride from. The boat ride lasted two days, during which she spent most of the time retching over the side of the boat and swearing to the Maker that she would walk the Imperial Highway all the way through Orlais and the Heartlands to get back to Amaranthine after this was over, even if it would mean an extra three months of travel on her part. Her fellow Grey Wardens (and the ship's crew as well, for that matter) seemed to find it very amusing that the Hero of Ferelden and Commander of the Grey could defeat an Archdemon and the Blight but couldn't handle seasickness. She did not.

There was no way she was stepping foot on another sodding ship, ever again.

Toriana's first sight of Kirkwall was memorable, if not very pleasant. The Gallows – she had read about them in the books on Kirkwall she had devoured before the trip – were not a welcoming sight. Statues of chained and punished slaves greeted her as they pulled in to dock at the port, making her think not only of the once-enslaved elves, but the repressed mages as well. The knowledge of the templar-mage conflict that had so recently happened only intensified the thought. She had a feeling she would not like Kirkwall.

But now that the ship was firmly lashed to the dock, Tori was more than happy to walk off the damned _Swift Wind_ and be on steady ground again. Of course, as soon as her feet touched solid ground, she found her balance floundering and she had to hold tightly to her staff to keep herself from toppling over and into the water of the bay. That would be bad, as she did not know how to swim, and was _certainly_ in no mood to be rescued.

Her comrades' snickers behind her made her stiffen her back and turn to look at the four of them, raising an eyebrow and trying to look intimidating despite the fact she was trying not to throw up her lunch, "Is there something amusing, gentlemen?" she asked in a composed tone that clearly said she was not to be trifled with. The three men instantly fell silent and lowered their eyes with murmurs of "No Commander," and "Apologies, Commander." That was more like it.

The only other female in their group, however, a young woman by the name of Moiraine who had only been recruited a year or so ago, piped up with, "I'm not a man, Commander," in that light, joking voice of hers. Toriana quite liked Moiraine – she was a bright girl, who had proven herself to be extremely good at the roguish arts of stealth and picking locks. And she was damn skilled with her daggers, too. Her talents came from her life as a street rat and a part of a crime syndicate – before Tori had found her and, recognizing the promise she possessed, recruited her. Needless to say she had a soft spot for the girl.

With a grin, Tori replied in a voice that was nearly as light in mood, "You're quite right, sister, how could I forget?" The boys looked a bit put-out that she hadn't reprimanded the girl like she had them. They would get over it – Moiraine was far too charming of a girl for anyone to stay irritated with her for long, and they knew the Warden-Commander was not really upset with them.

After a short bit of conversing with her fellows, they agreed to go to the Templar Hall together to meet with the Knight-Commander and learn the latest news on the darkspawn attacks.

Tori found her way quickly through the crowds to the entrance to the Templar Hall, where she was a bit irritated to find she had to wait as a messenger was sent to fetch their Commander. Normally she wouldn't mind, but the nausea and unsteadiness that still plagued her made her temper short, even more so because she still had to cling to her staff to help with her balance. It made her feel like a foolish teen who had drank too much and could no longer handle her liquor.

The Grey Wardens spent the minutes they waited chatting idly about Kirkwall and its most recent events. Carver had quite a bit of input on the matter, as it had been his sister who had been the main pillar of all the actions that had happened, it seemed. He was particularly vehement in insulting "that damn apostate" that his sister had apparently been romantically involved with, and the instigator of the attack on the Chantry. Before Toriana could ask more about the whole incident – the reports she had received had been jumbled and vague and wholly inconsistent – a voice interrupted them.

"Grey Wardens, welcome to Kirkwall." Why did that voice sound strangely familiar? Tori turned to face the man that had spoken from behind her. "I fear the situation has—Toriana?" The man cut himself off and stared in open… was that surprise or something else? apparently struck unable to speak.

As Tori's eyes fully took in the man's appearance, her eyes widened with equal amounts of surprise. Cullen. The kind, nervous young Templar from the Circle. Her first reaction was a warm smile, but when she jarringly remembered her most recent meeting with him, after Uldred's corruption of the Circle, the smile was wiped from her face and she instantly became guarded, her grasp tightening on her staff.

"Ser Cullen," she said politely, with just a hint of iciness, "I was not aware you had come to Kirkwall." She kept her eyes fixed on his and tried to keep her features schooled into a calm mask of civility.

Cullen was a sore subject for her. When she had still been an apprentice in the Circle they had gotten along amicably, if a bit awkwardly because of his crippling shyness. He had expressed to her on a few occasions that he did not relish the task of killing mages, and she had admired that about him, as well as his kind demeanor. Their conversations, though always short and stilted because of his stuttering and fumbling, had always been friendly and she had always considered him her favorite Templar.

But it had changed when she returned to the Circle as a Grey Warden. The torture he had endured at Uldred and the other blood mages' hands had broken his mind, harvesting within him a burning hatred for all magic-users. He had called for the murder of First Enchanter Irving, in spite of the fact that Tori had saved the few remaining Circle mages from corruption with the Litany of Andralla, and had vehemently protested when she defended them.

He had said harsh words to her, condemning _her_ simply because of what she was, even after he had confessed his affection for her, trapped in that magical cage. Even after the moment they had shared months before, high up in the tower, when he had brought her that flower and she had kissed him so innocently. Even after she had saved his life and his sanity from the blood mages, he still condemned her and her kind, as if they were all rabid animals to be put down.

It had been a painful experience, to say the least. And considering Kirkwall, from what she had heard, was not kind to mages (an understatement), she felt nervous and a bit like a wolf walking amidst wolfhounds. She had to stay on her guard; Hero of Ferelden or not, some people would stop at nothing to see another apostate killed.

Cullen finally found his words, though his face flushed a rather amusing shade of red, "I-I was sent here by Knight-Commander Greagoir. I am the Knight-Commander of Kirkwall now." He straightened, if possible, even more, but seemed unable to meet her eyes for more than a few seconds at a time. He kept glancing at the Wardens behind her, or to the side, or at her boots, and every time he did meet her gaze, something stirred in those eyes that Tori was almost afraid to acknowledge was there before he looked away again.

Although his actions seemed to speak of shyness, Toriana knew better. They were the actions of someone who had been tortured to the brink of insanity, someone who hated magic, someone who looked at her and saw only a threat, saw only demons pacing just out of reach beyond the Veil. Bitterness welled up in her.

"I suppose congratulations are in order," Toriana said through stiff lips. Her brown eyes were hard and cold, a rare thing for her, and she held her chin in a dignified manner, as if she could not be bothered by him. "You were saying, about the situation? I presume you mean the darkspawn attacks?" Maybe her voice was a bit too prickly, but she felt like vomiting up her lunch at the moment and didn't much care for pleasantries.

Cullen cleared his throat and his expression turned dark, "Yes, we have… a problem. If you could follow me, I would prefer not to speak of this here." He cast a glance about at the people milling about the crowded Gallows before turning and striding swiftly into the Templar Hall. Toriana immediately followed, matching her pace with his and refusing to walk even a bit behind him. Her Grey Warden companions fell into rank behind her with practiced ease.

Once they were safely within the walls of the Hall, even as they continued to walk, Cullen began to speak again. "We had another attack just three nights ago. The darkspawn pillaged an entire street and…" He took a deep breath before continuing, "They took a number of women into the Deep Roads. As far as we know they were alive when they were taken."

Tori froze mid-stride to stare at Cullen with her mouth slightly open. She knew what the darkspawn intended to do with those poor souls. All sense of her propriety and politeness was lost. "How could this happen? Why were your men not there to protect them? Isn't that their duty? Or is slaughtering helpless mages their only obligation?" The venom in her hissing voice was clear, as was the fire and disdain in her eyes. She was done carrying the title Warden-Commander for the moment; now she was a woman, a mage, and a defender of innocents, and the obvious dereliction of duty by the Templars at those women's expense enraged her. She couldn't care less that the Templars gave her menacing looks, or that one of her Wardens – Carver, she presumed – made a strangled noise of protest behind her.

The Knight-Commander rose to the challenge, much to her twisted delight. He stopped walking and turned to face her with eyes flashing, "Do not try to bring your false accusations into this, Warden-Commander. May I remind you why we are talking?" His voice was wound tight, and as cold as Vigil's Keep in midwinter. "We are here to discuss a means of rescuing those women, not argue about mages and templars. My men were vastly outnumbered, there was nothing they could do to stop the darkspawn. Would you rather they had died and left the city all but defenseless? Who would that help then?"

His response made a twinge of guilt curdle in Toriana's belly for acting so childish, and perhaps a bit selfish, but she refused to let it show. She curled her lip and held the Knight-Commander's gaze – which he now seemed to have no troubles leveling her with – without faltering. She was too stubborn to back out of this now, no matter how much it may sour her relations with the current stand-in leader of Kirkwall. And no matter how right he was.

"Do you know what they do to women, Knight-Commander?" she hissed, and in her mind she was back in the Deep Roads, hearing Hespith's wails. She almost felt triumphant at the way the color drained from his face and he only stared at her wordlessly, but now she only felt even sicker, more disgusted with herself, for saying anything.

She made a growling noise in the back of her throat and shook her head, closing her eyes for a moment, "Your men should have died trying to save them. Or given them a merciful death." And with that she turned away, in the direction they had been walking before, to signal that the argument was over.

Cullen didn't deign to respond and continued walking, now at a brisker pace than before. They reached what she assumed was his office in complete silence, the tension so thick it had to be cut with a knife. A sharp one.

He closed the door to the room with a bit more force than necessary and went to stand behind the small desk. "We need to organize a rescue expedition," he finally said with restrained civility, "With you and your Wardens at its head."

Toriana nodded, maintaining the façade of politeness, "How many darkspawn do you estimate?"

"Three-hundred, possibly more. At least a few ogres have been spotted among them." The tension was getting, if possible, thicker as they continued, their gazes locked.

"I will need twenty of your best men." It was not a request, it was a demand.

Cullen let out a bitter laugh, "I hardly have that many to spare, Warden-Commander. Recent events have left me a bit short-handed, I'm sure you'll understand. I can give you ten, if you need more men you'll have to hire them."

The thought of hiring help wasn't as distasteful to Tori as it seemed to be to him – after all, many of the Wardens were mercenaries. Hell, Mekel, one of the men behind her, had been a hired sword until Nathaniel had found him and conscripted him, and now he was one of their top teir fighters. She nodded curtly, "Get them ready by sun high tomorrow, we need to leave as quickly as possible."

Before he could say any more or dismiss her or whatever it was he intended to do, she turned on her heel and walked straight out of the room. She was done putting up with him for now, and she desperately wanted a bath and a chance to rest her churning stomach.

As soon as they were out of the Templar Hall and heading for where a passerby had said a good inn was, Moiraine spoke, her voice lacking its usual upbeat tone and sounding more curious and surprised than anything. After all, Tori was usually a relatively easygoing person, quick to laughter and jokes; this coldness was out of the ordinary for her. "Commander, do you know that man from elsewhere? You two didn't seem too fond of one another."

Toriana let out a bark of laughter, and her response was full of resentment and animosity toward the Knight-Commander, "I knew him once, Moiraine. Now he's just another faceless templar."


	4. Cullen Remembers

As the Commander of the Grey and her Wardens departed, Cullen clenched his hands into fists. That blasted woman! Unthinkingly, he slammed one of his fists into the top of his desk, and was rewarded with a spike of pain through his knuckles.

Why had she been so difficult? Her actions and words had made her seem an unruly apprentice again, not the Warden-Commander and Hero she was now. The accusations in her voice and eyes against his men stung, for it was not so long ago that Meredith and her more sadistic followers had been in charge of the Kirkwall Order. The accusations of corruption and cruelty Toriana had made would have been true, then. But in the two months since Hawke had aided the mages, Cullen had been working hard to weed out those still alive in his ranks who only had bloodthirsty thoughts for the mages. He did not want murderers, he wanted _protectors_.

That damn woman!

Cullen dropped himself into his office chair and raised a gauntleted hand to his forehead. After that exchange he felt simply exhausted – she was a hard woman to face when she had that fierce look in her eye.

He could have sworn, for a moment there when Tori had first turned and saw him, that she had begun to smile as she used to smile back in the Circle. Those brown eyes had melted into a pool of chocolate, and her slightly crooked teeth were bared in what was definitely a warm smile of recognition. He had wanted to return the smile, to welcome her warmly even as the betraying blush swept over his face, but then her expression changed.

Just like that, the smile had gone and her eyes were brown stone, staring him down with a guarded look that spoke of distrust and… maybe he was crazy to think that he saw pain in there as well? And her voice… the manner in which she had spoken to him had been so cold and clearly hostile that he found it hard to compare this woman to the girl he had known in the Circle. Even her appearance had changed. Those short black pigtails were now long tresses with braids along the side of her face that disappeared into the rest of her hair. Her face had a more definite shape, not round and soft as it had once been. Her whole body was different – she was slightly taller, more shapely, and held herself with a grace and dignity that spoke of prowess in battle. She was no longer innocent and pretty, she was beautiful. And deadly.

Back in the Circle, Toriana had been a sweet, fun-loving girl, even with her curse of magic and the constant threat of possession, she always had a kind word for people and a smile to spare. Even among many of the more reserved of his templar brothers she had been tolerated, if not liked, for the ease with which she greeted them every day and treated them like human beings and not suits of armor.

"_Hello Cullen!"_

_With a start, Cullen turned to see Tori striding towards him, a small smile on her face and her hand raised in a wave. The seventeen year-old boy felt a flush rising up his neck to his face as he lifted a hand in a rather lame wave, "Oh, h-hello, Ap-Apprentice Amell," he managed to stutter out._

_She smiled wider, "You know my name is Tori, Cullen! The name Amell means nothing to me." The casual way in which she said it belied the slight twinge of regret in her eyes at the mention of her family name. Mages were often taken from their families at a young age, severing all connections, and Tori had been no exception. He knew it was hard to lose your family, after all he himself was an orphan. Or at least, that's what the sisters at the Chantry he'd been raised in had told him, but for all he knew he could have been abandoned. He couldn't remember his parents, or his time at the orphanage before he'd been chosen to live at the Chantry. And so, he was just Cullen; no family, no family name._

"_Oh, yes, s-sorry," he cleared his throat, "T-Toriana." He shifted awkwardly in his armor, trying to think of something to say that wouldn't sound stupid._

_Before he could speak, however, Tori posed him a question, obviously she had been dwelling on it for some time. "Have you ever been outside the Circle, Cullen? Templars are sometimes allowed to leave, are they not?" The look in her eyes and the birdlike tilt to her head were pure curiosity._

"_Y-yes. I mean no, _I_ haven't been since I came here t-two years ago, but we can sometimes go on leave if we earn it." He felt slightly proud that he had managed to speak a full sentence with relatively few stutters._

_The mages' apprentice's face fell, "Oh, so in a way you're trapped, too…" she murmured, looking out the barred window behind him. He felt uncomfortable – he didn't like thinking of the templars as 'trapped', after all they were here to perform a duty, that's what kept them in the Circle._

_Another sudden thought seemed to come to Tori and she looked wistful, "I hear flowers are just wonderful. Senior Enchanter Wynne has a perfume that smells like lavender, I wonder if all flowers smell that nice…" her voice trailed off as it often did as she got lost in her thoughts. Of course she had never before seen living flowers, the Circle was devoid of plants that weren't dried and ground up for potions. Cullen shifted awkwardly again, unsure what to say, until she perked up again and looked at him with a bright smile, "When you get to go on leave you simply must find some flowers and when you come back, tell me how they smell, okay?"_

_The hopeful, excited way she looked at him made him nod automatically. "And how they feel, I imagine they would be very soft… And... and what they look like! The pictures in the books don't do them justice, I think. I'm rambling again, sorry!" she let out a sheepish laugh and clasped her hands in front of her, rocking onto the balls of her feet and back. Even though she was fifteen, she looked like a young child talking about candies or something of the sort. It was very cute._

_Cullen felt his face grow red again and he nodded, "A-a-alright, I will," he stuttered out, feeling like his hands looked stupid just hanging there at his sides. He tried crossing his arms, but that just looked hostile, and sighed and settled them back at his sides. Better to look like a peaceful fool than an aggressive charmer._

_Toriana gave him a smile that made his heart skip a beat, and opened her mouth to say more, but First Enchanter Irving's voice drifted down the hall from a classroom as he began his lesson. Her eyes grew wide, "Oh! I'm late for my lecture!" With a strange little hop she began to run towards the room, but when she was nearly there she stopped to turn and wave at him again, "Thank you, Cullen!" she chirped before she disappeared into the room._

_His heart felt like it was going to pound out of his chest._

Cullen growled at the memory. He had been a foolish boy to go fawning over a mage, to even allow himself to think of her as anything but one of his charges. There was nothing good that could come out of an ill-advised infatuation like that, only pain.

He turned away from his desk to look out the small window in the wall behind it. Toriana was no longer the girl from the Circle. She was the Hero of Ferelden, the Commander of the Grey, and an apostate whose powers were great enough that she was likely a prime target for demons.

He would have to keep an eye on her.

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><p><strong>Remember to leave a comment and tell me what you likedon't like - critiquing makes everyone happy!**


	5. Desire

**Author's Note:** Thank you to those who have commented, I really appreciate it, you have no idea! :) The next chapter won't be up for at least four days as I'll be out of town, so don't expect anything new until Monday/Tuesday.

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><p>The Hanged Man wasn't exactly a <em>fine<em> establishment, but Toriana was not picky about her accommodations, and the rooms were cheap. The fact that they were only a few blocks from the street that had been ransacked by the darkspawn made it an even better place to stay. The Wardens spent a bit of time in the common room of the pub asking around for capable mercenaries. They were directed to a few people, but as soon as each group learned what they were asking, they backed away and refused to deal with them. It seemed no one wanted to go into the Deep Roads to fight darkspawn, even with a group of Grey Wardens.

Toriana sighed and kneaded her brow, "Forget it. Let's get ourselves a drink and a moment of rest," she said to her comrades, turning away from a man named Meeran who had sneered and nearly outright insulted her when she had asked if he could be hired for her job. The people in Kirkwall were rude blighters. She definitely would make it a point to avoid this city in the future – it was a cesspool.

After paying for five mugs of ale and settling into a table in the back corner of the room with her fellow Wardens, Tori quickly downed her mug despite the fact that it tasted like stale bog water. Perhaps alcohol would chase her dreams away tonight.

"I forgot how much I hated this city," Carver muttered, clutching his drink and staring at it in distaste.

Moiraine took a sip of her mug and cringed, "I can't see why anyone would ever come here, this ale tastes like dog piss."

Pater, the oldest in age (but not most senior in time with the Wardens, Tori got that title) of them all with a head of gray hair, laughed and clapped a hand on Moiraine's back, "Can't be worse than the grog they serve at the Keep!" he exclaimed before taking a swig of his own drink. Immediately he wrinkled his nose and slammed the mug back down on the table, "On second thought, maybe it can."

The Wardens roared with laughter and threw teasing comments at the 'old man' (which was what they called him, affectionately). The next hour was spent with Tori drinking the ale she had bought for Carver, who didn't have the stomach for it, and getting a third for herself while the rest of the Wardens joked and teased each other. She joined in now and then, but her thoughts were on the darkspawn and the women they would be attempting to rescue tomorrow, and she found it hard to share in their mirth.

It had been three days since they had been taken, they were already running out of time. Unbidden, Hespith's morbid rhyme – which Tori had never been able to forget – came to mind as she stared blankly down at her mug of ale. _First day they come and catch everyone. Second day, they beat us and eat some for meat. Third day the men are all gnawed on again. Fourth day, we wait and fear for our fate._ It was the fourth day. Were the women waiting, hoping for rescue? Were they even still alive? Were they even still _human_, still able to be saved?

The Wardens had fallen silent and were giving Tori a strange look. She started, looking up, and cleared her throat, "I'm sorry, did you ask me something?" she asked faintly.

"Commander… what was that you were muttering?" Moiraine's voice sounded a bit frightened, and Pater and Carver looked varying ranges of disturbed. Mekel didn't, but nothing seemed to ruffle that man, he was hard as stone and just as unreadable. She had spoken without realizing it, so tied up in her thoughts she had been; the buzz that filled her mind from the drinks didn't help.

Toriana shook her head and gave a smile that clearly didn't fool them by their concerned expressions, "Nothing, Moiraine. What was that you said about Oghren and Nathaniel's horse?"

That broke the silence as the young woman launched into a recount of Oghren's attempt at stealing Nathaniel's horse, and the hilarity that ensued when the horse bucked him off and Nathaniel found out. By the end, in which Nathaniel dunked Oghren's head in a bucket of water, even Tori was shaking with laughter, and the dark mood had gone from the table.

One more mug of ale later, Toriana's head was stuffy and light, and she bid goodnight to her still-laughing friends and made her way to her room upstairs. It was small, with just a bed and a chest with one blanket, but it was all she needed. After changing out of her armor and into a loose shirt and pants for comfort, she collapsed on the bed a little unsteadily and sighed, pulling her blanket over her and throwing a hand over her eyes.

_Tori sat on the window ledge as best as she could with the bars that guarded it in her way. The book on her lap – an advanced study on elemental magic that First Enchanter Irving had recommended to her personally – lay forgotten in her lap as she stared longingly out at the stunning view the window offered her. The sun was nearly set, casting a dramatic purple hue over Lake Calenhad. It was beautiful, and she loved the view the tower offered, but she wished nothing more than to be _out there, _to experience the world the way every non-mage was able to._

_But her Harrowing was close, as Jowan frequently took the time to remind her; the Senior Enchanters were all whispering about the promising young apprentice who they felt would make an excellent mage – perhaps even take the place as First Enchanter herself one day. Tori felt no desire to have the position, that seemed the role for someone wiser (and more suited to such a boring office) than she, but she felt a burning desire to become a full mage of the Circle really for only one reason. Mages sometimes got to travel outside the Circle, especially in times of war like these. The idea of going out into the world made her shiver with delight; it was what kept her so fervently pursuing her studies, even as her peers teased her for being so studious. She would go out there, one day._

_The sound of someone clearing their throat behind her made her turn, and she smiled when she saw Cullen. He was her favorite of the templars, so kind and sweet, he wasn't cold and harsh like most of the others. There was a warmth in his eyes that she found rarely in the eyes of others, and he was handsome to boot! There was nothing wrong with acknowledging when a young man was handsome, was there? She meant nothing by it, she knew templars were off-limits (though some of her fellow apprentices had no qualms about flirting shamelessly with them – Toriana had heard gossiping whispers about forbidden trysts in the shadows of the tower), and knew that especially for a mage, infatuation and love were fickle things that would likely end in heartache or demonic possession. It was simply too big of a risk._

"_Cullen, I haven't seen you around in nearly a week," Tori said happily, standing and setting her book on the window ledge._

_It was endearing to see a man of twenty years blush and struggle to find his words, "I… yes, I've been on l-leave." He paused, fumbling with something he held in his gauntleted hands, "I…" he looked down at his boots, face getting even redder, then blurted out, "I-I found this. For you."_

_Tori gasped at what he held out to her, feeling like her eyes would pop out of her head. It was a flower, with a large brown center roughly the size of her fist from which sprouted slightly pointed petals that began a fiery red and faded to a vibrant yellow. She walked forward slowly, as if dazed, and took the flower from Cullen with both hands, brushing his hand lightly as she did so. Cullen withdrew his hand rapidly, as if she had stung him._

_She hardly noticed, drawing the flower up to her face and burying her nose in the center, inhaling as deeply as she could with her eyes closed to focus on the scent. It smelled… so different from Wynne's perfume. It was the smell of sunlight and freshness and a hint of honey and velvet, the sort of smell she would associate with freedom and happiness and innocence. It was the smell she would think of when she walked from the tower for the first time._

"_It's some sort of s-sunflower," Cullen said awkwardly, unsure of what to do besides enjoy the look of absolute bliss on her face, "At least that's what Ser Inge told me."_

_When Tori withdrew from the flower and looked up at Cullen, her eyes were wet with unshed tears. Never before had anyone done anything so… so _wonderful_ for her! Never before had she felt such a rush of affection and appreciation for anyone. She could hardly believe that, after their conversation two years ago, he had thought to not just tell her of flowers, but bring one to her._

_And suddenly, Tori rushed forward and threw her arms around his armored body, the flower still clutched tightly in her grasp. He half-lifted his arms as if to defend himself, but when he realized what she was doing he froze and stared down at the top of her head pressed into his breastplate, heart hammering in his chest and hoping she couldn't hear it._

_After a moment Tori let him go, beaming so hugely that she looked as if her face would split, "Thank you, so much," she managed to gush through her smile, "You have no idea how much this means to me," her voice broke as the tears of joy rolled out of her eyes and down her cheeks. The hug just didn't do the gift justice._

_Without a thought (for surely if she had been _thinking_, she wouldn't do something so _reckless_), Toriana pushed herself onto her toes and pressed her lips against his. The kiss only lasted a couple of seconds, but when she pulled away she felt her lips tingling and goosebumps rising on her skin. His lips had been slightly rough, as if the sun had dried them out, and he had smelled like… a strange mix of hazelnuts, sweat, and something muskier that she could only describe as the smell of a man. It made her heart race wildly and she felt suddenly like a silly schoolgirl with a crush. But it had been purely innocent! It was merely a token of her appreciation!_

_Cullen's face had reddened to the shade of a tomato, and he stared at her with amber eyes wide and his mouth slightly open. Tori could only smile sheepishly and mumble out another, "Thank you," before she turned and walked swiftly – she certainly didn't run! – out of the study room she had occupied by herself until Cullen arrived._

_The world took on a strange, wavering quality, all the colors looked off, as Tori stopped in the middle of the hallway. She recognized this; for some reason it made her think of the Fade… But she had never been in the Fade, she hadn't even passed her Harrowing, how could she recognize it? Her mind felt fuzzy and confused. She slowed to a cautious walk and peered about herself anxiously as she headed for the apprentice dormitories._

"_Where are you going?" Cullen's voice sounded strange behind her, almost like a purr. When she turned, he was suddenly right in front of her, smiling sweetly, "I've waited so long for your kiss," he murmured, taking her bare hands in his gauntleted ones. The metal felt strangely warm against her skin, "You're so beautiful, Toriana."_

_The way he said it made her suck in her breath. Why did she feel like pulling him into another kiss? He was a templar! And she didn't even know him that well! It was wrong on so many levels…_

_Cullen reached up a hand to stroke her cheek, and his gauntlets felt strangely like talons, but she leaned in to the touch and half-closed her eyes in pleasure, "I can help you escape the Circle, my dear. We can go where there are fields of flowers for you to bask in. We can swim in the lake and climb trees and watch the rabbits and deer in the fields."_

_The promise was so sweet, so tempting, so close to what she had always dreamed of, that Tori's breathing quickened and she looked up at him, "But how? I cannot leave the tower until I am a mage and the First Enchanter lets me." Her speech was a breathless whisper._

_He smiled like honey and pulled her closer, into a rather intimate embrace that made her face flush, and leaned his face down close to hers, so close that she could feel his breath on her lips and could hear her pulse begin to fire rapidly in her ears. "All you must do is will me to come with you, want it with all of your heart," he purred._

_She opened her mouth to say yes, to say there was nothing she wanted more, but when Tori looked into his eyes, she had an abrupt feeling of… wrongness. His eyes were not the beautiful amber color, like the sap from a tree, but instead were a soulless black that glinted with red, like fires from the very depths of hell. Her heart nearly stopped in fear. How had she not noticed before? This was not Cullen._

_With a cry, Tori pushed the demon away, but she was caught in its grasp. The metal of its armor dug into her skin as it pulled her closer. "Don't you want to be free?" the monster with Cullen's face hissed, but now its voice was a strange, echoing lilt that sounded like a mix between a man and a woman's voice. "Don't you want to experience what every living, thinking being should experience? Don't you want to breathe free air, to love who you choose without worry, like anyone else can? You are caged like an animal in the tower!" Its voice was harsh in her ears, but its words made her head light and unclear. Fighting suddenly seemed like a bad idea. Why would she fight? Isn't what it said true? Didn't she want to be free, didn't she long for it more than anything else? Her head slumped forward against the demon-Cullen's armored chest. Would it be so bad to let one demon free in the world, if it meant her own freedom? It would likely be killed quickly by the templars, and then she could be free..._

_A loud thudding resounded throughout the Fade and Tori was jolted to her senses. She was not an apprentice in the tower, she was the Warden-Commander, and a full mage! This creature was a demon, never to be trusted, never to be set free from the Fade! With a howl of fury and disgust, she willed her magic into her hands as burning flames that shot out with a force that knocked the demon back. It was no longer Cullen, but instead in the form of a horn-headed Desire demon, jointed tail lashing the air in fury. Now free, Tori closed her eyes and focused on her corporeal form, laying in her cot at The Hanged Man._

_Before she felt the heaviness in her body that signaled she was leaving the Fade, she heard the demon screech one last time, "You'll never be free, mage!"_

Toriana was thrown awake with a strangled cry, scrabbling at whatever was clinging to her body, suffocating her, with only one thought: to escape. It took her a moment to realize that it was only her blanket, and she fell limp, panting and coated with a sheen of sweat. She had fallen asleep in her drunken stupor, and a demon had taken the chance to prey on her weakened state.

Vowing to be more careful next time she drank (for she certainly wasn't going to stop drinking completely) and _not_ fall asleep while drunk, Toriana jumped when the thudding noise from her dream came again. It was a rather loud knocking at her door. She untangled herself from the blanket and stood, swaying slightly as the blood rushed from her head – she was still a bit fuzzy-headed from the alcohol.

When she opened the door and saw Pater standing there, she had to resist the urge to hug him. After all, it had been his knocking that had saved her in the Fade; she wasn't sure if she would have come to her senses in time without it. She smiled at the man who had nearly fifteen years on her and had a body built like a bear, though she still felt her heart thrashing from the terror of her dream. "Did you need something, Pater?"

The Warden cleared his throat and made a subtle gesture behind him, "The Knight-Commander is here to speak with you. Is now a bad time?" He eyed her carefully, and she realized she probably looked like a rabid wolf, with her disheveled clothes and mussed hair, and likely circles under her eyes from a restless, alcohol-induced sleep. She likely smelled awful, as well, with ale-breath and sweat just beginning to dry all over her body. By the low light coming through her window, she guessed it was nearly sundown and she had only been asleep for an hour at most.

Toriana sighed and ran her hands through her hair in an attempt to smooth it down, and gave Pater a sheepish grin, "I look terrible, don't I?"

The old man smiled back at her and bowed his head slightly in respect to offset his teasing words, "As if you just spent a night wrestling a demon, Commander," he joked, winking.

_Funny how accurate you are_, Tori thought with another sigh, attempting to smooth the wrinkles from her shirt now, to no avail. She hated the idea of facing Cullen again without her armor and her staff; she couldn't help but feel like he wouldn't take her seriously unless she looked her part. And she also wasn't keen on facing him after not only having a dream about him, but seeing him turn into a demon once she had crossed over into the Fade. The things he had said to her… No, the things the _demon_ had said. It meant nothing in the real world. What would be difficult about it was seeing him now as a hardened man when she still had the tender memory fresh in her mind of how he had once been, when she had held a special, innocent place for the stuttering young man in her heart.

Shaking her head to clear it and fighting her urge to turn down the meeting, Toriana nodded at Pater, "Send him in, then, if he must come."

She _really_ was starting to hate Kirkwall.

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><p><strong>Hoo-boy, my longest chapter so far. I realize I use a lot of dream sequences and memory flashbacks and such, and I apologize, I know they're cliche and overused, but what better way for me to show you a glimpse into Tori's past? Some cliches are cliche for a reason ;)<strong>


	6. Confrontation

Toriana's head began to throb in the time it took for Pater to wave Cullen into her room (which wasn't long, he must have been close by). Her mouth felt cottony and her vision was still a bit off, not to mention her back ached from her strange position on the bed. She definitely hadn't gotten the liquor wholly out of her system yet, and suddenly regretted agreeing to meet with Cullen in this state as he walked in, fully armored except for the templar helmet. She felt particularly vulnerable after the run-in with the demon and the revisiting of perhaps her happiest memory of the Circle, which now was tainted in her mind by the monster's interference.

She hated demons.

Her face was drawn into a scowl when the Knight-Commander walked in, and she was deep in her thoughts to the point of not noticing that her scowl was fixed on his face and she was silent when she should have said something.

Tori studied the man before her. In appearance he hadn't changed overly much. His chin and jaw were more defined, still square and definitely manly. His neatly trimmed goatee was thicker, and his hair had more of a sun-kissed golden glow about it rather than the darker, auburn-tinted brown of his days in the Circle. He no longer had that wide-eyed innocence about him, that demure way of avoiding her eyes. A rather new-looking scar (judging by the pinkish, raised skin) marred his jawline and neck on his left side, but rather from detracting from his look, it only enhanced the air of fierce dignity about him.

His manner was different, too. He stood straighter, taller, held his chin higher and with more confidence. His voice had deepened to a pleasant (she hated to admit) thrum that she could feel in her chest even from across the room. She knew he was handsome, fully matured from the boyish looks he had possessed as a young man, and that fact annoyed her. It was hard to keep hating someone who looked so good.

Cullen was frowning at her, and Toriana realized he had said something and she had been scowling silently at him, even as she ran her eyes over his features. Oh, sod it all!

"I'm sorry, what was that?" she mumbled, keeping her voice low to avoid aggravating her building headache. Her lips were tingling strangely, making her think of how they had felt in her dream – no, her _memory_ – after the kiss.

Cullen's eyes hardened, "Are you drunk?" The incredulous, disdainful way he asked it quickly brought her scowl back even as her face heated in embarrassment.

"I am not drunk, thank you, Commander," she said, forcing herself to enunciate clearly, even as she glared at him. She was not drunk! She was merely working the last of the alcohol out of her system. There was a pressure building behind her eyes and starting to throb, and she felt herself quickly becoming cross that he had come to see her (not thinking of the fact that if he hadn't, Pater likely would not have knocked on her door and she could have fully fallen prey to the demon's wiles).

"Why have you come at such an improper hour?" Tori asked in as haughty a way as she could, lifting her chin. It was difficult – haughtiness didn't exactly come naturally to her.

It had the effect she had been hoping for. Cullen's face reddened slightly as he glanced down at what were her sleeping clothes, and he seemed to have to gather himself before he spoke. "I would not have come, but I figured it was important enough a matter to not wait until tomorrow." He cleared his throat and stared her down, "I will be accompanying you on your expedition into the Deep Roads."

Toriana didn't move or say anything for a minute. He… _what_? She did _not_ want him traipsing after her in the bloody Deep Roads where he could insult her the whole time and accuse her of being a maleficar! And she dreaded the thought of him being killed in the deep, leaving Kirkwall in essence leaderless with everyone turning the blame to her. Oh no, this was _not_ happening.

"I will not allow it, ser. The templars need their Commander to oversee things in Kirkwall. What if the darkspawn attack while we are out?" She shook her head and said firmly, "No."

Cullen didn't seem the least bit surprised that she had said no, "My Captain is capable enough to watch over the city until I return. My men will feel more comfortable in the Deep Roads with their Commander to lead them, and I would see those women safely home myself."

Toriana snorted incredulously, "Have you ever faced darkspawn before, Cullen? You have seen abominations, yes, but have you ever charged a two-ton Ogre?" To his credit he didn't pale or look frightened, but stood there stoically, stubbornly. "This is no scouting mission. We will be in great danger, and I cannot watch over you the whole time."

His expression said it all, but he still gave voice to his thoughts: "_You_ watch over _me_, Warden-Commander?" The smile that curved on his lips was almost mocking, and his amber eyes looked her up and down, taking in her sorry state. "It appears as if _you_ will be the one needing watching. May I remind you I am a grown man and perfectly capable of taking care of myself?"

She rolled her eyes rather childishly, "That could be argued," she muttered in response to his last comment. Then she turned her eyes back to his face and glared at him, "May _I_ remind _you_ that expeditions like this are my life, serah. They are a Grey Warden's life. We do not need coddling." Her face was like stone, unyielding, and she showed no remorse for such a life. It was her life, and it was better than being trapped in the Mages' Circle – she cherished it.

That statement made Cullen pause, looking somewhat uncomfortable, before continuing. "That does not change the fact that I will be joining the expedition. Whatever ill will you may hold towards me, I trust you can put it behind you so that we may work together civilly?"

Toriana's face flushed red, partly in embarrassment but mostly in anger. She could not believe his nerve! Sounding so self-righteous as if _she_ had been the one to shout at _him_, to blame him for the torture and death of her friends. He had his facts a little backwards, and she intended to put it right.

"Whatever _I_ may hold towards _you_?" Her voice came out in a growl and she clenched her fists. "You call magic a curse! You condemn my people as if we are wild animals to be caged!" She was shaking with fury now, her voice rising, and Cullen looked slightly alarmed, "You wanted to kill First Enchanter Irving, even after I saved him! He was like a father to me, and you wanted him dead!"

Despite the venom in her voice, memories of her old, beloved mentor flooded Toriana's mind and she felt her eyes burning with unshed tears. Irving had died three years ago of an unknown illness, weakened by Uldred's attack, and his death had been hard to take. She had never had time to mourn him properly, and now she was paying for it with unbidden tears. She blinked and a traitorous tear ran down her cheek. Angry at herself for crying in front of this man, for crying at all, she turned her back to him and hastily wiped at her face.

The room was silent for longer than was comfortable before Cullen broke it, his voice low as if he were talking to a frightened child or animal. "I was scared," it came out almost a croak and he cleared his throat, "I… you cannot imagine what I saw in that cage, what those maleficarum did to my friends, to me…"

She didn't like his tone, how dejected he sounded. She didn't want to pity him, to feel bad for him and want to comfort him. She wanted him to leave, to stop talking, to just walk away, but he didn't.

Cullen took a deep breath that she could hear from across the room, "I do not think mages should be caged, I was just frightened. I… was young and foolish. I blamed all of you for the actions of some and it was not fair, but I've gotten past that now." He sounded like he was almost pleading with her, but she refused to turn around and look at him, to acknowledge what he was saying. She glared at her beside table even as tears trailed down her cheeks. Years had only made the bitterness grow fouler, more difficult to move past. Apologies did not change the past.

After a moment of silence, Cullen sighed and she could hear his armor creaking quietly, "Perhaps one day you can move beyond it, too, Toriana. I bid you good night." And with that she heard him leave, closing the door behind him, leaving her feeling miserable and ashamed.

As she climbed back into bed, her head now cleared of alcohol though still throbbing, she tried not to think on his words. She thought of tomorrow, of the expedition.

She was a Grey Warden, and stopping the darkspawn was all that mattered to her.

Yet no matter how many times she told herself such, it still hurt.

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><p><strong>Dear English language: Please make more synonyms for 'tears (n.)', 'bitterness (n.)', and 'anger (n.)' Thank you.<strong>


	7. Why hello, Mr Elf

Toriana awoke to the sun's first rays streaming through the small window of her room, dancing across her eyelids. She groaned and turned over, trying to hide her face from the light, but to no avail; she was awake now.

With a sigh she sat up, rubbing her face hard as if she could wipe away her dreams of darkspawn and abominations. But at least it had been a regular Grey Warden dream, mercifully free of Ferelden Kings and Kirkwall Knight-Commanders. She knew how to be grateful for the small mercies in life.

As she dressed, Tori focused on practicality rather than looks. Thick black hair went into a stiff bun, she tied her chest wrap exceptionally tight to flatten her rather average breasts and keep them out of her way in battle, and she didn't bother with any sort of makeup. Her Warden-Commander armor must have been cleaned and polished by a servant while she was sleeping, for now the gold lining shone magnificently and even the main black color looked stunning, free of mud and dried blood. She'd have to remember to leave a little extra coin for that.

Once fully outfitted in her armor, Toriana looked every bit the Warden-Commander: imposing, dangerous, and dignified. Her staff's black shaft ended in a sharp, two-foot blade, with multiple strings of beads and two grey feathers hanging from its base. Even the dark circles under her eyes only added to the effect of making her look deadly. Or at least just royally pissed off.

Strapping her bag of provisions to her back (she had only brought her armor and sleeping clothes, and a week's worth of dried food), Toriana went downstairs and got a bowl of porridge for breakfast. Mekel and Pater were already awake, eating in a comfortable silence, and she joined the non-conversation smoothly. She was grateful that neither asked her about Cullen's visit the night before, as she was trying not to think about it at all.

When she was nearly halfway through her meal, Carver appeared, looking sleepy. He joined their table in silence, eating his own porridge, until a few minutes in he looked around and asked, "Where's Moiraine?"

Toriana shrugged, mirrored by the other two men, as she scooped the last bit of her food into her mouth. "I'll go get her up," she said finally when none of the others offered to do so.

The knock on Moiraine's door was answered by a small, shaky sounding "Yes?"

Tori opened the door a crack, "It's me. May I come in?" When the younger woman said yes, she walked in all the way to see Moiraine sitting up on her bed, arms wrapped tightly around her knees, which were pulled up under her chin. Her eyes and nose were red, and her short, spiky red hair was limp and disheveled. She looked much like Tori had looked the night before.

Sitting on the bed next to her friend, Toriana put a hand on her shoulder, "Dreams?" was all she had to ask in a soft voice, and the girl nodded miserably.

"Ever right after my Joining, I never had dreams as bad as these. How can you stand it?" Her voice trembled, and Tori felt a rush of sadness for the girl. It had been Tori, after all, who had chosen her to join the Grey Wardens; it was Tori, in a way, who had given her those terrible dreams.

Toriana shook her head with a small, sad smile, "My dreams were horrible after my Joining," she said in an empathetic voice, "You never really get used to them, but you learn to cope." She couldn't lie and tell the girl everything would be alright – it seemed too cruel, and she didn't like lying much in the first place. "Having other Wardens to talk about it helps," she smiled at Moiraine, who managed a small smile back. Good, one step at a time.

Moiraine sniffed and wiped at one cheek, "It does help. I heard the stories of you in the Blight, but I heard the King was only other Grey Warden in Ferelden with you. Wasn't that hard?" The innocent way she said it, with a look of concern, is what kept Tori from narrowing her eyes and leaving, as she did with people who mentioned Alistair (usually in a way that suggested there had been something romantic between them). But Moiraine clearly hadn't meant anything by it, and she couldn't fault the girl for that.

The Warden-Commander shook her head, "Not when it came to the dreams. I was lucky, this was before he became King, and he was very kind and understanding, always willing to talk if I had those dreams." Talking about Alistair hurt, but she could see it was helping Moiraine, and so she forced her way through it. "I was very lucky."

Moiraine smiled at her, almost as brightly as she normally did, "I'm lucky, too, Commander, I've got all the other Wardens, and I've got you!" And with that she leaned forward and hugged Toriana so hard it almost broke her heart. This girl was fast becoming like a little sister to her – or how she imagined a little sister would be like, considering she never had one of her own – and the upcoming mission was now starting to worry her. What if Moiraine was killed? She would never be able to forgive herself for bringing her…

When the redhead pulled away, her hazel eyes were as brilliant as they usually were, and she gave Toriana a glittering smile, "Let's go get breakfast, I'm starving!" she chirped, taking the older woman's hand and leaping to her feet to lead her downstairs. The girl was never in a bad mood for long, and Toriana envied that rebounding ability. She helped herself to a second bowl of porridge as Moiraine got her first – being a Grey Warden made you eat like a half-starved Mabari.

The chatter at the breakfast table was amicable and relaxed, and Toriana mainly listened. She was focused on the task ahead of them, trying not to think of Hespith's morbid rhyme: _Fifth day, they return and it's another girl's turn._ Would they take one at a time, as they did with Branka's House? Or would they corrupt all the women at once, knowing they were being doggedly pursued?

"My dear Grey Warden, you surprise me with your choice of taverns, as always." The smooth, accented voice made Toriana's head jerk up so fast that a sliver of pain jolted through her neck.

The blonde elf standing at the end of their table, clad in leather armor that looked Antivan, gave her a dazzling smile and took Toriana's hand, bowing low to kiss it, before speaking again, "I see you are speechless by my arrival, dear Toriana. Perhaps you need a moment to close your mouth and wipe the drool away? No?"

The other Grey Wardens were staring between the elf and their Commander in confusion, as if they were not sure if they should be laughing, drawing their weapons, or leaving the two with some privacy. Toriana broke the silence by letting out a bark of delighted laughter and jumping to her feet, "Zevran!" she exclaimed, forgoing a polite handshake to pull him into a hug.

When she pulled away, grinning, she lifted one eyebrow, "What are you doing here, you dog, last I heard you were in Antiva!"

Zevran sighed and shrugged, "I find I cannot stay too long from Ferelden now, the smell of wet dog has grown on me." The glint in his eye and the wink he gave her made her laugh again. How she had missed him! After parting ways with most of her friends from their quest against the Blight, Toriana tried not to dwell on how she missed everyone.

Turning to face her fellow Wardens, Toriana clapped a hand on Zevran's back and grinned at them, "This is Zevran Arainai, the infamous assassin that helped stop the Blight!" That brought an awed noise from Moiraine, who smiled at the handsome elf, and a grunt and a sullen look from Carver. The other two men simply nodded in respect; they likely had seen him about the Vigil last time he'd visited a couple years before. "Zevran, these are Grey Wardens, too. Pater, Mekel, Moiraine, and Carver," she pointed to each as she spoke their name, and Zevran smiled at Moiraine.

"What beauty is this before me? I see the Grey Wardens are still hiring beautiful women, what a relief." He winked at Moiraine, who blushed and giggled behind her hand.

Toriana recognized his woman-charming voice and rolled her eyes with a grin, "We're heading out on an expedition soon, Zevran, we won't have any time for fun and games." Though she was smiling and her voice was light, the elf caught the glint in her eye that said she would pound him into the ground if he hurt the redhead, and for once in his life he acquiesced, shrugging with an innocent look as if to say 'I was only joking!'

After a short pause, during which Toriana eyed Zevran thoughtfully (eliciting a suggestive comment from him that even managed to make Toriana blush as she declined), she tilted her head to the side, "In fact… are you available for hire? Perhaps you'd like to have one last adventure with an old friend?" She sounded hopeful – having the sleazy rogue around would lighten the dour mood of the expedition considerably.

Zevran grinned again, "My dear Warden, I am always at your service. And I must say your timing is impeccable, as I just finished a job this morning. What trouble would have me running into at your side this time?" The way he said it made Toriana chuckle, and she invited him to join their table as she explained the details of their expedition.

Maybe, just maybe, Zevran would be an ample enough excuse not to talk to the Knight-Commander any more than was strictly necessary.

And, of course, the damned lovable elf knew how to kill.


	8. Towards the Deep Roads

**Author's Note:** So, I hate to preface a chapter with "this crap sucks," but... to be honest, this chapter totally sucks xD I re-wrote it four times before I settled on this version, and no amount of inspirational images, songs, and stories could get me into my 'story writing mode' to make it better. In fact, at one point I was listening to 'Closer' by Nine Inch Nails, and the chapter turned into a Zevran-sex flashback xDD But I scrapped that, cuz my sex scenes suck, and this story isn't about Zevran, as much as I do like sex with him ;)

No matter how I wrote it, Zevran and Tori's relationship seemed so... shallow. Either that or it seemed like they're in love (which they're not). It's just... special. It's a very close friendship, that just so happened to have a physical aspect, a sort of a deeper understanding. Zevran knew the pain his only true friend was going through, and knew what she needed to help her get over it. I just can't seem to explain it properly with words, bleh! :(

So, bear with this chapter, I know it's disappointing, but to make up for it the next chapter will be from Cullen's point of view, yay! ;)

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><p>Toriana had been right about Zevran lightening the mood. She spent the rest of the morning laughing and joking with her old friend as they caught up. Zevran had stuck around for a few months after the death of the Archdemon to help Tori rebuild the Grey Wardens, but eventually he had left to 'take care of some business' in Antiva (which he refused to explain in that slippery way of his). He visited every few years, but the visits were always short and he was often distracted by whatever his 'business' was. Apparently Tori had been lucky to catch him in Kirkwall, as he was just passing through to finish a job before going back to Ferelden.<p>

"I would have visited you at the Keep, of course!" he reassured her with a grin when she accused him of avoiding her. "How could I resist you for too long, my dear Warden?" She laughed as he wiggled his eyebrows at her.

Their relationship must have seemed a bit strange to her fellow Wardens, but Toriana didn't give any other explanation beyond his part in the quest to end the Blight. In truth, after Alistair had ended it between them, Toriana had floundered her way into Zevran's arms and his bed, taking solace in the familiar man's presence and grateful for the distraction from her heartache.

They had slept together often in the months after Alistair's wedding, and both understood that what they had was not romantic, only… a good friendship with certain _physical_ benefits. Toriana was grateful for a friend who helped chase away the gnawing want in her belly and kept her bed warm at night, and Zevran was delighted to have a friend who was both eager in bed and wanted no emotional attachments beyond friendship.

Toriana loved having him around – always full of jokes and lighthearted banter, with plenty of sexual innuendo thrown in. He was a true friend, and having him in Kirkwall now was a relief beyond measure. While she held her Wardens dear, she didn't know them like she knew Zevran, like she had known all of her companions during the Blight. It was a different kind of friendship, one that came from saving the nation together, from almost dying countless times _together_.

After questioning many of the locals as to where the darkspawn fled to after their attack, Toriana and her group – now five instead of four – made their way to the Templar Hall.

Seeing such a large group of templars lined up made Toriana want to shudder. It brought back memories of the corrupted Circle, with enchanted templars doing the bidding of demons. It made her think of the Circle before Uldred's blood magic, with templars at every corner, watching. Always watching. When she had been an apprentice it hadn't bothered her as much as made her sad that so many peoples' lives were chained to the Circle, not just the mages'. Now it just made her angry. The Circle was a prison to _all_ who entered it.

She resisted the urge to shiver as she walked up to Cullen. Toriana held her head high and kept her expression and voice aloof, "Are your men ready, Knight-Commander?"

Cullen turned from where he had been inspecting the templars, and a flash of… something went across his eyes before he schooled his features into an expression as detached as hers. "At your word, Warden-Commander."

Toriana heard Zevran's low whistle behind her, and his accented voice as he whispered, "You would think they were married and one was unfaithful, the way they glare at each other." Moiraine quickly shushed him, sounding a bit fearful for their safety as her Commander turned and gave the elf a look that would have made ice look warm. Zevran only chuckled and winked mischievously.

Luckily, Cullen didn't appear to have heard.

"Then we move." With that, Toriana turned on her heel and walked from the Templar Hall, heading for the city gates with her considerably larger group on her heels.

Luckily, during her earlier questioning a particularly helpful guardsman had told her the direction the darkspawn had taken out of the city, and informed her of an entrance to the Deep Roads in the woods he said his wife's friend had found years before. She made sure to commit Ser Donnic's name to memory in order to give him some sort of reward if his information proved true.

Intent on ignoring the Knight-Commander not far behind her, Toriana joined in the light conversation between Zevran and Moiraine as they walked through the forest outside the city. It felt good to somewhat relax again, in the company of people she trusted and actually liked, and by the time they actually found darkspawn, she was smiling and laughing along with her friends.

When Toriana felt the strange, skin-crawling sensation that alerted her to darkspawn nearby, she held up a hand commanding a stop, turning and holding a finger to her lips to signal silence. Wordlessly, she unhooked her staff from her back and gestured for her companions to fall into a defensive stance. Much to her relief, Cullen's men obeyed her commands until they were spread out with their backs to each other in a loose circle.

She could not see the darkspawn, the trees were too thick, but knew they were likely on the move, hunting them even as they were prey themselves; the ability to sense the darkspawn was a double-edged blade that allowed the monsters to sense Grey Wardens as well as the other way around. With a deep breath, Tori let her magic flow through her, igniting her hands into balls of flame that licked her hands like a half-tamed wolf: under control, but dangerous.

Before she could issue more commands to her men, the darkspawn were upon them. It was a small group – scouts, most likely, or stragglers – of perhaps thirty hurlocks and genlocks, and Toriana wasn't worried in the least, confident in her men's abilities.

Her staff cut through the air with a whistle as she deflected an arrow aimed for her chest and fired a ball of flame towards the stout genlock that had shot it. Twisting to barely avoid a hurlock sword, she beheaded another hurlock and in the same movement curled her hand into a fist and watched, satisfied, as the hurlock that had stabbed at her moments before froze, icicles spearing through its chest in a sickly spray of tainted blood.

The battle was over in less than a minute, and Toriana smiled proudly as she watched Moiraine dispatch the last hurlock, which was probably twice her weight, with those twirling daggers of hers. The templars were going around and making sure all of the darkspawn were dead, and a quick glance assured her that Cullen was unharmed.

Zevran tugged one of his daggers free from a genlock's skull and wiped the blade on the grass before smirking at the Warden-Commander, "I see you are still as deadly a sex goddess as ever, Toriana," he purred as he returned his daggers to his back.

That elicited a giggle from Moiraine, a strangled, awkward cough from Carver, and a strange look from Cullen. Tori just laughed and punched Zevran lightly on the shoulder, "You know me, oh so sex goddess-y," she joked with a self-deprecating chuckle and a shake of her head.

The sound of retching caught her attention and Tori turned to see a young templar bent over, dry heaving over a bush on the edge of the recent battlefield. Sympathy washed over her despite the man's templar armor, and, seeing no one else was going to comfort him, Toriana went to his side.

"Never fought darkspawn before, have you?" she asked in as gentle a voice she could manage. The man, who must have been only nineteen or so, shook his head with his eyes closed, not looking at her. She reached out a hand and patted him reassuringly on his heavily armored shoulder, "You'll get used to it, don't worry," she murmured, and when he looked over at her disbelievingly she grinned sheepishly, "When I first fought darkspawn I couldn't walk for nearly five minutes, I was shaking so badly."

The man let out a laugh but quickly stifled it with a timid glance at her, mumbling out an apology. Afraid to laugh? Of _course_, templars weren't _supposed_ to be happy or have senses of humor, she had almost _forgotten_. Toriana laughed herself and shook her head, "No, don't worry, it was quite hilarious if you didn't count that I had gotten darkspawn blood in my mouth. Now _that's_ a flavor that'll give you nightmares," she winked and patted his shoulder again when he didn't hold back his laughter this time, shaky as it was.

Satisfied that the man was straightening up and no longer looking quite so sickly, she gave him an encouraging nod before returning to her Wardens. "Come on, we must be getting close."

With that, they left the bodies of the darkspawn and continued through the woods, the Grey Wardens and the elf talking as if nothing unusual had happened. The templars' silence as they walked seemed strange to Toriana, who was used to the light talk of the Wardens, even while fighting darkspawn.

For if the Grey Wardens didn't make light of their situation, what was the point of continuing as they did, with their dark, morbid lives?


	9. Memories and Jealousy

**Author's Note:** Yay, Cullen! I have to recommend a song to all you Cullen fans reading this, because it fits him so well: Given and Denied by Poets of the Fall. Seriously, it gives me inspiration to write him (in fact, it makes me sort of wish the whole story was written from his point of view! xD) I highly recommend listening to it with this chapter - I'd like to think it fits ;)

Now, read on and enjoy the Cullen-ness! :D

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><p>It had been a restless night. His sleep had been full of memories, painful memories of being trapped in that cage. Ser Terry, reduced to pile of twitching, mashed body parts like some sick child had torn him apart and attempted to put him back together improperly. Ser Yorik, tortured with visions of his brother and sister until finally he begged, sobbed for death and they removed his head. Ser Gerard, one of his best friends, being slowly bled dry as they used his blood to fuel their magic. The laughter of the blood mages echoed in his head all night as he twisted in his bed, covered in cold sweat and trapped, trapped in his own mind, in his own dreams.<p>

And then _she_ was there. More beautiful then he had ever seen her, looking up at him with those big brown eyes, telling him she wanted him more than anything. And then they were kissing, somehow their clothes were gone though he did not remember removing them, he could feel her curves pressing against his skin. She made him groan, made him sweat, made him pull her closer until the only way to be closer would be to…

But she was cold. Why was she so cold? With a start, Cullen pulled away, stroking Toriana's cheek, and he asked her that same question. She laughed and brushed his concern away, and now he saw her teeth were wrong. They were perfectly straight, gleaming white; they were not Toriana's teeth, her left front tooth slightly overlapped her right, her canines were ever-so-slightly pointed, and her smiles were just slightly lilted to the right. This couldn't be Toriana, with that faultless smile.

She seemed to sense his thoughts, and her fingers curled behind his neck, he could feel sharp pricks where her nails – which felt like _claws_ – dug into his skin. "Why do you fight it, my love?" she crooned, stroking his hair with her other hand and pressing herself harder against him. "Is this not what you want? Is this not what you've lain awake dreaming of, wishing for?" The hand in his hair was now around his hand, guiding it to her breast.

He swallowed hard, could feel his body responding even as he tried to pull away and she held him there. "But you… you're not her. You can't be her," he voice was cracked, ragged; he hadn't had water in… he didn't know how long. He couldn't seem to remember where he was.

She laughed and he felt his head growing fuzzy and warm. "Does it matter, little templar? You can be with her forever, have her any time you choose, and she—_I_ will always be willing. I will always know where you want to be touched," her hand slid down his stomach and he sucked in a sharp breath, "I will _always_ give you what you want."

In an instant, they were clothed again and she was at his side, arm through his, and two small children ran between their legs, giggling. The black-haired boy ran up to Cullen and wrapped his arms around his leg, staring up at him with a big grin, "Da, you said you would teach me how to hold a sword! You promised!"

The little girl, with hair the same shade as his own tied in pigtails, ran up and pushed her brother aside, "I want to learn how to use a sword!" she wailed, round brown eyes scrunching up with tears, "Why can't I use a sword?"

"Because you're a _girl_! Girls don't use swords," her brother chided, sticking his tongue out, even as Toriana bent to pick up the girl with a motherly smile.

"You can learn whatever you choose to learn, my dear." That stopped the little girl's crying and she wrapped her tiny arms around her mother's neck.

Cullen was frozen. Children? He looked down at his left hand and saw a golden ring around one finger. Marriage? He knew those things weren't allowed for a templar, he had never even dared to dream of ever marrying a woman, especially not _her_. That would be blasphemy, she was a mage… But looking at the young ones made his heart swell with warmth and love and a smile came to his lips. They had her eyes, those beautiful eyes…

_No!_ He jerked back, covering his eyes with his hand. _They're not real!_ He closed his eyes and refused to open them again, even when the his little girl – no, _not_ his, he had to remind himself – began to cry and shriek as if she was being torn to pieces. Even when the little boy wailed and clutched at his pants and something that felt horribly like blood began to soak through the fabric and against his leg. Even when Toriana's tortured scream sent a shard of agony directly into his heart and tears rolled out from beneath his eyelids. He kept his eyes closed. They were not real. They were not real. But the pain was.

With a start, Cullen had awoken, shaking and unable to do more than curl into a ball and shiver and gasp for air. It was a dream that haunted him with decreasing frequency over the years, but each time he had it he still awoke feeling weak, helpless, petrified.

It took nearly half an hour for him to finally calm himself enough to drag himself out of bed and splash some of the water from his bedside table on his face. The sun wasn't even fully risen yet, but he was not going back to sleep. He knew he had dark circles under his eyes, but he would have to put up with it, put up with the fatigue in his limbs.

The morning was spent forcing himself to eat a meager breakfast and giving orders to his second-in-command for his absence. By the time he was out gathering his men together in the courtyard of the Templar Hall, he was fully awake, though still trying to ignore the aching in his limbs and the weariness in his soul.

"Are your men ready, Knight-Commander?" The sun had reached its zenith, and _she_ was there, punctual as she had always been in the tower. When Cullen turned to look at Toriana he couldn't escape the sudden pain that squeezed his chest as he thought of all the things he had seen in that cage, all the times he had seen her die before him for refusing to cave in to the demon's illusions.

But he brushed the pain aside and mirrored her unfeeling look with his own, kept his voice as devoid of emotion as hers was. If that was how it was going to be, then so be it. He tried not to remember her the night before - _why_ had he gone there? It seemed like such a horrible idea now, in hindsight... - the tears she shed for her now long-dead mentor. Even with her anger simmering underneath, those tears had brought him back to her days as an apprentice, when she had shed very different tears and kissed him so chastely and innocently. He had wanted to comfort her, but he didn't know how now, after all the years of building bitterness. So he had stood there like a fool, wishing he could be young again, wishing she would smile for him as she had once done.

It was with annoyance that he pushed the memories away. They were both very different people now, and she clearly hated him. The time for light, friendly conversations and laughter was gone. She was the Warden-Commander and a mage, of all things, and he was the Knight-Commander; they were worlds apart. It was better this way; Greagoir had been right, nothing good would ever come from a union between mage and templar.

As they began their trek through the woods, Cullen kept his eyes active, peering through the trees around them for any sign of danger; his ears, however, were distracted. That strange elf that was now apparently part of Toriana's group (a mercenary, he guessed?) was talking to her and the other female Warden, sharing stories and making jokes that made Cullen's ears grow hot.

And she was _laughing!_ She was laughing at those crude jokes, that suave accent that sounded foreign, and she was making jokes of her own! Her laughter was different than when she had been younger, it was fuller and less shy; she threw her head back as the mirth rolled up from her belly and her chest and her eyes crinkled nearly closed. In that moment, she looked younger, once again carefree and playful as she had once been.

Cullen felt betrayed by the ache in his chest as he watched her, watched her like he had watched her in the Mages' Circle, always wanting what he could not have. He hated that he wished she would laugh like that for him, and even more he hated the bubble of annoyance he felt towards the elf as he watched the blonde place a hand on her shoulder. It was a friendly gesture, he knew, but he couldn't help but feel that the look in the man's eyes was _more_ than friendly. It made his skin itch. But it was not his place to care whose company she chose, and he had to tear his eyes away.

The instant change from the beautiful, laughing woman to an alert, battle-ready Warden was startling and impressive. Toriana held her hand up for a halt and Cullen looked about, drawing his sword and pulling his shield from his back when he saw her readying her staff. He trusted that the rumor that Grey Wardens could sense darkspawn was true.

He couldn't help but feel another stab of annoyance when she signaled his men and they obeyed without question. It was foolish, he knew, since she was the true leader of the expedition and his men's obedience to her was vital to their success, but for some reason now _everything_ she did irritated him, made him want to argue.

Before he could gather himself, the darkspawn were surging around them. Cullen was not used to fighting the twisted creatures, in fact he didn't have much experience in larger-scale battles at all, but quickly found it was not too terribly different from fighting men. Men who didn't care if they were injured, who weren't afraid to die. With a twist, he wrenched his sword out from a hurlock's throat and turned, trying to find Tori in the brief chaos, but his view was obscured and he cursed. Mages were vulnerable in such close combat, and he felt his heart drumming anxiously in his chest as he slammed his shield into a genlock's face before impaling it through the chest with his blade.

As he tugged his sword free, he was surprised to see that the fight was already over. It must have been a skirmish, then, not many enemies. His eyes found Toriana and he let out a breath he hadn't even noticed he had been holding. She wasn't hurt. In fact, she looked exhilarated, with her cheeks flushed and her eyes bright; she seemed to _enjoy_ the fight. So did her companions, now that he looked.

Grey Wardens were strange people.

"I see you are still as deadly a sex goddess as ever, Toriana." Cullen's eyes narrowed as he stared at the smirking elf, spattered with the blood of the darkspawn and somehow managing to look like it was natural, even handsome, for him. _Sex goddess?_ He felt sick, hearing the man say that to her with that same look in his eye that made Cullen want to punch him. It had absolutely _nothing_ to do with his previous infatuation with the woman, he was just angry because it was… _improper_, and that was all!

Tori was… laughing? And though her reply was humble and joking, Cullen couldn't help but feel that the comment was something she had heard before – something _special_ between them. Blood boiling and eyes narrowed to slits, he pulled a rag from his pocket under his armor and began to wipe his sword clean with a focused intensity. The disgusting smell of darkspawn was doing nothing to help his temper.

Irritated as he was, Cullen couldn't keep himself from glancing up and watching her approach one of his men – Tomas, if he wasn't mistaken, a young lad with a rather sensitive streak – who was retching at the edge of their battlefield. Curiosity kept his eyes on her as she spoke to the boy kindly. Shaking for five minutes? Somehow, seeing how calm she was around the darkspawn now, he couldn't quite believe it. So then she was lying just to be kind to the boy?

He couldn't help but wonder if she had an ulterior motive, but instantly felt ashamed that he had thought her capable of something sinister. Toriana wasn't like that; while she could be stubborn and insufferable at times, she was generally an altruistic, compassionate person. So then she was merely comforting Tomas, a templar. This confused him to no end – didn't she hate templars?

The Knight-Commander shook his head in disbelief as the woman made a joke for the boy's benefit before walking away and calling for their group to move on. Maybe, then, she hadn't changed quite so much from the young woman he had known all those years ago…

Cullen returned his shield to his back and his sword to its sheath, running a gauntleted hand through his hair as he followed behind the Grey Wardens. His thoughts were all jumbled up and he didn't like it.

It seemed that even after ten years, Tori still had that innate ability to leave him feeling like a bumbling fool without even trying.

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><p><strong>Poor Cullen :C I feel so bad for him...<strong>


	10. Ambush

It seemed Ser Donnic's information was accurate; the entrance he had described to her was covered by a few overgrown nettle bushes, at the base of the large mountain called Sundermount. The light banter died down as Toriana pushed the branches aside to reveal a foul-smelling hole in the ground with stairs leading deep into the earth.

A quick study of her company assured her that they had enough energy to venture a bit into the deep before they set up camp, though Cullen had dark shadows under his eyes that worried her a bit, and the young templar she had spoken to early once again looked sick. But they had to continue while they still could, those women depended on their speed.

Without further ado, Toriana took the lead and walked down the stairs. The stench of the Deep Roads was foul, a rotting muck smell mixed with stone and dampness, but after venturing into them so many times she had learned to shut down the part of her mind that noticed it. She heard the sound of someone emptying their stomach a ways behind her and grimaced, feeling slightly guilty for bringing the templars with her to face things they likely had never before faced.

The deeper they went, the darker it got, until Tori had to gesture for Pater to get out the torches they had brought specifically for this purpose. With a quick flick of her hands, the five torches were aflame and spread throughout their group so that the light danced evenly on the walls of the tunnel.

They walked for nearly an hour before stairs ended and the ground flattened out to paved floor. The ceiling stretched high above them – that always surprised Tori, considering it had been dwarves who had built the Deep Roads – carved into harsh right angles and sudden corners. Dwarven architecture had a strange, linear beauty to it that Toriana had learned to appreciate during her time in Orzammar.

Their pace was a measured but swift walk, with Mekel scouting ahead to check for signs of the darkspawn with his tracking skills, and Zevran to accompany him. Moiraine was busy sharing stories of her days as a smuggler with Carver, and Pater looked deep in thought, so Toriana made rounds among the men, changing her pace to move through them smoothly. Most of them looked fine, though all were wary. The boy from earlier had a greenish cast to his skin.

Tori measured her pace to match his. "Will you be alright, Ser…?" she realized she didn't know his name and gave him a questioning look.

"Tomas," he answered, "I will be okay, Commander, ah, Amell, was it?" he swallowed, looking at her anxiously. He was clearly nervous around authority, as if he feared he would make a wrong move and be reprimanded harshly for it.

Tori smiled, "Yes, but please, call me Tori." She still wasn't fond of using her surname, it sounded as empty and posturing to her as her title "Hero of Ferelden" and she avoided using it whenever she could.

When Tomas smiled shyly and mumbled out a "Thank you, Commander, ah, Tori," she gave him a friendly pat on the arm and continued her rounds.

Finally, the person she had been avoiding at the back of the group. Toriana matched her stride with Cullen's (which was difficult since his legs were longer) and glanced over at him. He was unusually pale, and the shadows under his eyes made him look exhausted. Concern wriggled in her gut despite the fact she still felt apprehensive toward him.

"Are you alright?" Her voice came out gruffer than she had intended, and she cursed herself when his face hardened and he kept his gaze straight ahead, refusing to look at her.

"I can fight just fine, Warden-Commander, I won't jeopardize your mission." Was it just her, or did he sound bitter?

Toriana faced forward, her brow wrinkling. "That's not what I asked you. I inquired after your well-being."

Cullen's mouth twisted into a frown, "I don't see why that would concern you, Warden-Commander." His voice was distant and he used her title as if it were a barrier, the stubborn mule!

Tori's breath hissed out through her teeth and she grabbed his arm, forcing him to stop. "Cullen." Her voice was harsh, and his eyes widened in surprise. He glanced at their companions' retreating backs – no one had noticed they had stopped – and Tori shook her head. "We'll catch up. We need to talk." She was sick of the tension between them. She knew they couldn't go back to how they had been when they were young, but at the very least she wanted them to be on semi-friendly terms.

She was a bit too stubborn to admit that her actions the night before likely hadn't helped the situation.

Cullen swallowed and began to protest. "I don't know if—" Tori cut him off before he could finish.

"I'm sorry." It may as well have been pulling teeth for how hard it was for her to say. Cullen looked bewildered as he stared at her, the frown on his face now with a surprised cast to it. Tori stared at a carving of a Paragon on the wall behind him, feeling her face go red and wishing she could just run away. She hated difficult conversations, especially ones where she had to admit she was wrong. Pride was a messy, treacherous thing.

"I… haven't exactly been friendly towards you since I arrived," she said softly, though her voice was still a bit reluctant.

Cullen snorted and Tori turned her eyes on him with a scowl, "You're not helping," she growled, feeling her hands clench into fists. Her face was probably as red as a tomato. She felt ridiculously foolish, like a child; it was making her skin crawl.

Toriana sighed and tugged one of her braids free from the bun and gave it a good yank as she scowled off towards their companions getting farther away. "Maybe this was a bad idea, let's just go." And with that, she turned away and started walking back to their group.

"Toriana, wait—" Cullen put a hand on her arm, but was cut off as she let out a sharp cry of pain and lurched to the side.

Agony roared through her abdomen, and when she looked down she saw the culprit: the shaft of a thick black darkspawn arrow protruded from the side seam of her armor. With a sort of detached fascination, she couldn't help but admire the accuracy of the shot. The strip of leather between her chest piece and the plate on her back was only two inches wide, one of the few weak spots in her armor. It _was_ an impressive shot.

The arrow must have been dipped in a fast-acting poison, for she could already feel the strength leaving her limbs. She hardly noticed Cullen drawing his sword and shouting for the others. She started to teeter, unable to hold herself up any longer, and his arm was around her, lowering her gently to the ground before he turned to meet the blades of a genlock rogue that suddenly appeared behind him, as if from thin air.

Toriana's head felt light, and her tongue felt too big for her mouth. For a moment she panicked, thinking her tongue would suffocate her, but relaxed when she realized she could breathe through her nose. The clash of metal on metal sounded far away, and she couldn't feel the pain in her side, now, though she was distinctly aware of the presence of the arrow. The pain was gone, however, and she stared down at the shaft with a strange enthrallment, wondering if she could just pull it out and go to sleep.

"Commander!" Moiraine was there, kneeling at her side. Tori barely recognized Carver behind her, engaging another genlock rogue with his greatsword.

"I'm quite alright," Tori said lightly, pushing Moiraine's hand away from her armor, where she was trying to get a better look at the wound. Tori didn't understand why the girl looked so worried, she wasn't in any pain at all! In fact, her body was tingling numbly, as if she had drank far too much ale. Had she been drinking? She couldn't quite remember if that had been this morning or the night before...

The sounds of fighting died away, and then Tori heard people talking quickly, but she couldn't understand them. She tried to say something, to ask them to speak clearer, but she couldn't form words properly. _Had she_ been drinking? She couldn't remember. She couldn't remember anything that had happened recently, and her vision seemed to be off. All she could see now was Alistair's face when she had told him the plan for the Landsmeet. Anora's plan.

A low keening noise escaped from her throat and she tried to reach out and touch his cheek, to tell him he didn't have to be King, that she would never leave his side, but then the world went suddenly black.

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><p><strong>Thanks for the support and the wonderful comments, I treasure them dearly! :)<strong>


	11. Poison

Cullen killed three of the genlocks before the others arrived and dispatched the rest of them with ease. The redheaded Warden took out the archer that had hit her Commander with two swift arrows to the chest before she fell to the older woman's side, even as the fighting continued around her.

As his men checked to be sure the monsters were dead, Cullen stood by Toriana's side opposite the young woman and stared down at the Warden-Commander with a concerned frown on his face. One arrow to the side shouldn't have dropped such a strong woman so quickly, so why did she look so weak?

Toriana mumbled something and looked like she was trying to stop the redhead – Moiraine, if he had overheard her name correctly – from reaching the arrow in her side. "What is she doing?" Cullen asked, brow furrowing.

Moiraine looked up at him, frowning, "The arrow must have been poisoned, she's delirious."

They both looked back at Tori, whose brown eyes were clouded and unseeing, as she let out a noise that was rife with sorrow and pain. Her hand lifted into the air weakly, as if she was trying to reach for something, before it fell limply back to her side and her eyes rolled up into her head before they closed.

Moiraine felt the woman's forehead and shook her head, looking more serious than he had ever seen the girl in the short time he'd been around her. "She's burning. We need to get this arrow out, now."

Cullen turned to his men, who had clustered a short distance away, and gave them orders to set up camp and post sentries. When he turned back Moiraine was already peeling away Toriana's armor as best as she could without disturbing the arrow, ignoring him. He felt useless; he knew nothing of healing or poisons, and seeing Toriana lying there, looking so defenseless, made him feel… lost.

"Is there anything I can do?" he asked, kneeling beside Toriana's limp form.

The redhead looked up, surprised, from where she had been unbuckling the breastplate. "Oh, I don't think…" she paused, studying his face with a peculiar expression on her face. "Perhaps you should try to get some rest, Knight-Commander," she eventually said with a finality in her tone. "There's nothing you can do for now, Pater and Carver will help me." The gesture to the other two Wardens who had joined her side told him that's what their names were.

Cullen almost argued, but realized that the girl was right; there _was_ nothing he could do, and sticking around and getting in their way would likely only make matters worse. He turned away and made sure his men had started a small campfire before he unfurled his bedroll and, still clad in his armor with his sword within reach, laid down on his side to try to sleep.

Close his eyes as he might, he couldn't fall asleep. The hushed interchange between Moiraine and Pater floated to his ears and he found himself listening in with rapt attention.

Moiraine's voice was tense. "Hold her down while I cut the leather from around the arrow, just in case."

There was a moment of silence in which he could hear the sound of leather being cut. Apparently Toriana was completely unconscious, for he didn't hear any noises from her. The rustling of her armor and clothing being removed was clear – everyone in camp was silent, as if making noise would lessen the chances of the Warden-Commander's survival – and another pause stretched out before Cullen heard a low growl.

"Already festering." A rough, low voice – Pater. "Must be that damn poison those damn rogues use sometimes, I heard that's what killed Lemar on that trip to Orlais. Damned stuff rots the wound and makes you hallucinate; you either die with half your insides rotted out, or you go crazy an—"

"Stop." Moiraine's voice was almost a hiss, and Cullen was thankful when Pater's rant ended with a mumbled apology. He didn't want to imagine Toriana dying, rotting like a slab of meat left too long in the sun. The very idea made him shudder and brought an ache to his chest that made him wish he could heal her.

"We have to get the arrow out. This is going to be bad, it's probably barbed, you know how those bastards make their arrows. I need you two to hold her down as best you can, we can't risk her sending it deeper if she wakes up and thrashes around." Moiraine's voice was remarkably steady.

Cullen rolled over to watch the Wardens from his bedroll, unable to keep himself away for this. As much as they may have butted heads since she arrived, Toriana had once been a dear friend to him. He had to make sure she made it alright.

Moiraine placed a hand on Tori's side, and wrapped the other around the arrow. Her hands were already slippery with blood, but when she tugged on the arrow with a sharp, sudden wrenching motion, it came out with a sickening squelching noise.

Toriana's body jerked under Pater and Carver's hands and, though her mouth had at some point been stuffed with a rag to stifle her cries, the agonized scream that ripped from her throat echoed off the walls with such a nightmarish quality that he saw many of his men flinch and a few even covered their ears.

Cullen found himself unable to breath for a moment as he watched Tori's eyes snap open and she began to claw at her friends as if they were monsters. The babble that poured from her mouth was muted by the rag, but he could see the terror in her wide, glassy eyes as they rolled back into her head, then darted around unfocused, as if she couldn't really see anything around her. It was difficult to see her like this, like a rabid animal backed into a corner. Once again he felt useless, unable to help her.

The red-headed girl was pulling a small bag of herbs from her pack as Pater and Carver held Toriana down – she apparently lost her strength, for now she laid there panting and trembling, eyes lolling like a spooked horse. Moiraine chewed on a sizable amount of one of the herbs before spitting it out as a paste and pressing it into the wound, eliciting pained whimpers from Tori.

Moiraine sighed and wiped at her forehead, only serving to smear a streak of blood across it. "That's all I can do, since I doubt she'll drink any water we try to give her. Someone will have to watch her at all times." She sounded exhausted, and when she looked down at the shaking Warden-Commander, her eyes were full of sorrow. "I'm no healer. We leave her in the Maker's hands, now."

A chill ran down Cullen's spine as she said it, and when he closed his eyes he had to force away visions of Toriana, lying dead on the cold floor of the Deep Roads. He hadn't realized until now just how much she meant to him. She was his last connection to his old life, to a time when he had had less cares, less problems; she was a symbol of a time before he had ever been tortured, when he had dared to look at a mage apprentice and dream of how her lips would taste.

He didn't want to imagine the life leaving those warm brown eyes, never seeing her sweet, imperfect smile again, or hearing her laugh. They might have made amends, had the arrow not struck her. She had been trying to bridge the gap between them, bad as she may have been at doing it. She didn't hate him after all.

Cullen finally knew that the one mage he had ever cared about didn't hate him, and now she was dying.


	12. The Pain of Hallucinations

**Author's Note:** Here it is, the next chapter! Just a warning, the 8th paragraph gets a bit disturbing (torture descriptions/explanation), nothing too bad, but don't say I didn't warn ya ;)

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><p>The darkspawn were everywhere. They swarmed with shrill shrieks and growls, and panic welled up in Toriana's chest as she realized there was no way she could fight them all off.<p>

Her staff was gone, and she wore only a thin shift meant for sleeping. She was done for. But she was _not_ going down without a fight.

When she tried to summon a fireball, she found her magic was gone, as if she had no connection to the Fade at all. The monsters overwhelmed her, forcing her to the hard ground. Fight as she tried, they managed to pin her and began clawing at her dress.

Terror and disgust muddled her mind and it was hard to think as the darkspawn touched her. Revulsion made bile rise in her throat, but no matter how hard she struggled she could not break free.

Pain suddenly tore into her side, just above her hip, and Toriana screamed. When she looked down, her dress was in shreds and she had to fight back vomit as maggots ate into her flesh where the pain burned. They burrowed under her skin like worms in dirt, pale and fat off of her tissue. She tried to get them out, but the darkspawn held her down, dug their fingers into the hole in her side to tear out bits of flesh still wriggling with maggots, until she was clawing at them frantically to stop.

Her energy was leaving her. Shaking from exhaustion, Toriana couldn't even lift her arms to fight back any longer. She could only watch in horror as the monsters began pulling out various wicked-looking devices and cackling evilly to each other; she could only imagine the torture they would inflict on her, helpless and under their control.

She didn't know how long she was in the darkspawn's hands, it felt like eternities. The wickedness of the darkspawn knows no bounds, and they tortured her endlessly, finding horridly creative new ways to make her scream and babble and cry until she was begging them the stop, begging for mercy she knew they did not have.

Fingernails were ripped out, skin was shredded like cheese, her tongue was cut down the middle so that she choked on her own blood and could feel the two halves wriggling like a sick version of a snake tongue. Eventually her eyes were gouged out and she was blind, unable to anticipate the newest horrors that would befall her; the lack of eyesight only made her sense of feeling even more intense, but no matter what they did, shock and unconsciousness refused to come and relieve her agony. She was violently groped and raped, bitten and scratched. They pressed her face into the ground until her nose broke and her teeth splintered, they tortured her until she didn't have the will or the ability to scream, to fight. They broke her.

And then suddenly, once she was teetering on the brink of insanity (or possibly past it) and mentally pleading for death, the darkspawn were gone. And the pain was gone. Her eyes were once again whole, and when she looked down at her body she was stunned to see that her body was unharmed and untouched, as if the torture had never happened. She couldn't move, couldn't even bring herself to smile or exclaim in relief. She was empty. Though her body had no marks of her suffering, her mind still clearly remembered the inexplicable agony she had experienced for an eternity. Her body was whole, but her mind was broken.

"Tori?"

Toriana looked up numbly, unable to even summon the surprise she knew she would normally have felt. Alistair stood before her, forehead wrinkled and eyes full of concern. He looked no different than he had during the Blight, still young and charmingly handsome, and the look he gave her was not of regret and pain, as of her last memory of him. Those beautiful green eyes were brimming with love, and when he stepped closer and touched her cheek, it was as gently as he had ever touched her.

"Are you alright, my love?" His voice was worried, but Tori could only stare at him blankly. What was happening? Why did she feel so strange, as if she was not quite there?

Alistair ran his finger down her cheek and pressed his forehead to hers. His breath tickled her lips as he ran his fingers through her hair the way he always did, and she felt an ache building in her chest. She missed him so badly… But she could not remember why she _missed_ him. Had he been gone? Why did she feel as if this was wrong? And why did it hurt to look at him?

Before she could respond, he was gone. In front of her stood a golden hound, staring up at her with emerald eyes and wagging his tail. She was confused. What was happening?

The dog let out a friendly yip, and was answered by a low, feline growl. Toriana turned and her eyes widened when she saw a white lion with a golden-brown mane stalking towards the hound, tail lashing in obvious fury. Its light ocher eyes were fixed on the dog, menacing and deadly. A roar and a growling bark echoed in her ears, and then the big cat and the hound were locked in a raging battle.

Toriana couldn't help the fear that washed over her as she watched, but she couldn't discern if the anxiety that settled in her gut was for the dog or the lion, or herself. She blinked once, and the dog was gone, leaving only the unharmed lion standing before her, regarding her with a regal calm.

Strangely, the fear was gone and she only felt relief. She stepped forward and buried her hand in his mane, and was pleasantly surprised to hear and feel the thrum of a deep purr vibrating from his throat. A smile curled on her lips as she looked down at the powerful creature. She felt safe with the lion – _happy_ – though she could not fathom why.

Then there was only blackness.

. . . . .

Toriana's eyes fluttered open. She felt so weak, even keeping her eyes fully open was difficult, and so she kept them narrowed to slivers. Her mind was slow; she couldn't think straight or remember why she was lying on a bedroll on the ground with a dull ache in her side. She felt bandages wrapped around her middle, and besides those and her chest wrap, her top half was bare. Bandages… had she been injured? She must have been.

Sweat dampened her skin all over her burning body, and when she swallowed her throat felt extremely dry and rough. She couldn't hear anything beyond rustling and the occasional cough or sneeze. She opened her eyes a little more so she could see around her better and was surprised to see Cullen sitting beside her, tilting his head back to drink from a water flask.

Seeing him drinking reminded Toriana of her own thirst, and she discovered she couldn't speak with her throat so dry. It was a struggle to find the energy to lift her hand, but she managed to reach his knee before her strength gave out. It was strange to touch him, even through the thick fabric of the traditional skirt of his templar armor; she could count on the fingers of one hand how many times she had come into physical contact with him. It was almost taboo to touch him now, as if they were back in the Circle with all its rules and restrictions.

Cullen jumped, spilling water down his chin into his facial hair, and she would have laughed if she had had the strength, it looked so comical. She managed the tiniest of smiles as he looked down at her with – as far as she could discern – relief and worry and happiness and concern all wrapped up into one expression.

"Toriana, you're awake!" he exclaimed, removing her hand gently from his knee and holding it in his as he felt her forehead with his other hand. Once again there was that strangeness at the contact, the feeling of his skin on hers, but his hand was cool against her head and she let out a sigh of pleasure from the touch. "You're burning. Here, drink this." His voice was ragged, as if he hadn't slept, or at least hadn't had any restful sleep, and she noticed the shadows under his eyes were considerably darker. She would have to confront him about his apparent lack of care for himself... later, when she had the strength to argue with him as she knew she would have to.

Cullen let go of her hand and put his own behind her head to lift her up so she could drink from the flask he held to her lips. The sudden wetness in her throat hurt and made her cough half the water onto herself, but once she recovered she continued to drink greedily until not a drop remained.

He pulled a handkerchief from his armor (She wondered where templars stored things like that... Did they have pockets?) and softly wiped the trails of water from her chin and neck. Toriana couldn't help to note with a degree of smugness that his cheeks grew pink as he brushed the fabric against her collarbone and just above her breasts. It was refreshing to see a grown man act bashful around a pair of breasts, rather than just slavering and pulling at the lead like a hound after a bitch in heat.

Now that her thirst was mildly sated (she still felt like she could drink a gallon of water, but at least her throat was no longer dry), she licked her horribly chapped lips and cleared her throat. "What happened?" she whispered in a voice that made her cringe, it was so weak.

Cullen tucked the handkerchief away and frowned at her, "You don't remember?" When she shook her head, he continued, "You were shot with a poisoned arrow. You've been… unconscious for nearly two days now. We thought you were going to…" he broke off and looked away in silence, unable to continue.

Toriana's mouth twisted and her eyes flashed with pain as memories returned of the torture. She was not a weak-willed woman, but the sensations had been so real, so intense, that it was hard to simply brush them away and not care. "What… what kind of poison?" she asked, her voice coming out in a croak.

The Knight-Commander's eyes darkened and his frown deepened as he studied her face. He saw the mindless fear in her eyes, the pain, she could tell by his expression. "Pater said it must have been a relatively rare poison the genlock rogues use; rots the wound and… causes hallucinations."

Hallucinations. Toriana grimaced and turned her head away. She could feel her pulse speeding up and the impulse to fight kicking in; she tried to push away the thoughts of those twisted monsters taking pleasure in her suffering, but she could almost feel the memories of the sensations as if they _had_ been real. Her fingers curled like claws and she focused on her breathing to calm herself. Breathe in, breathe out. It was not real.

"Are you alright?" Cullen pressed a hand to her forehead again with a worried frown. Instinctively, she jerked her head away and her lips curled into a snarl. She instantly regretted it because her head started spinning and Cullen looked startled and even more concerned as he slowly pulled his hand back.

She wished she could escape the question in his eyes as he looked at her. She didn't want to explain, she didn't want to think about it at all, so she swallowed her fear and disgust and wiped her expression blank. "Where are my Wardens?" she asked. Not exactly a smooth way to change the subject, but Cullen let it go with a look that said he would not forget about it.

Now he swallowed nervously, "Pater took your Wardens and that elf to go after the women, they agreed that time was running out for them and we could watch over you until you, ah, recovered." As if he thought she would protest, he continued quickly, "They said they would _only_ go to rescue the women and that we can always return once you fully recovered to eradicate the darkspawn."

Toriana nodded slowly, and he seemed surprised that she wasn't upset they had gone off alone. It _was_ a sound plan, after all. While she worried horribly for her friends wandering into crowds of darkspawn in such small numbers, she understood that those women could not wait until she was well again to be rescued. Not to mention they were excellent fighters and Pater was a smart, capable leader; she knew if anyone could pull off a rescue mission with no reinforcements, they could.

"Good," she whispered weakly, "Maker watch over them." Her eyes fluttered closed, she was exhausted and could feel herself drifting off.

Just before she fell into unconsciousness she felt Cullen brush a strand of hair from her face and felt a strange sense of… security, as if he would keep her safe no matter what. Something nagged at the back of her mind, some similarity to something or someone, but she was gone before the thought came to her.

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><p><strong>Aww, I love Cullen. In case you hadn't noticed ;)<strong>


	13. Reconciliation

Toriana's sleep was dreamless, and for that she was thankful as she awoke hours later with a burning thirst and a gnawing hunger but feeling rested for once. She was still too weak to move much, and her side still ached with a dull pain, but her mind was clearer.

Cullen was sitting cross-legged at her side again, but his chin had drooped onto his chest and his eyes were closed. He looked exhausted, and Toriana was not keen on waking him up when he so clearly needed the sleep.

She took the chance to study him closely, as she had never before been able to. She noticed that his eyelashes were still the color his hair had been years ago, the reddish-brown that reminded her of clay dug from the earth. His lips were curved in a frown, as if he had unpleasant dreams, and she noted with sadness that he had more worry lines in his forehead than laugh lines around his eyes. He had a large freckle on his neck under his ear that she had never before noticed, and she was seized by the sudden urge to touch it, to kiss it.

The thought startled her and she frowned, shifting her eyes away from him to stare straight up at the ceiling. She had no even remotely romantic feelings for him (aside from her _mere observations_ that he was a handsome man, which meant _nothing_), and never had, so why did she want to brush the frown from his lips, kiss the furrows from his brow?

With a snort, Toriana blamed the poison and her weakness as well as her lack of any physical or emotional closeness to a man in a little over two years. She had only ever been with three different men in her life. One she had loved and he had broken her heart, one was her friend and had kept her company in bed for a few months, and the last had been a fellow Grey Warden she had had a friendly – but not loving – casual relationship with who had died in a darkspawn attack two years before.

She was not the sort to jump into men's beds, or to throw her heart at any man who gave her flowers and called her pretty, so her impulses irritated her. The coldly rational side of her mind listed all the reasons she could never, ever be involved with a Templar, especially this _particular_ Templar.

He was a Templar and she was an apostate mage. A disaster waiting to happen. He was the Knight-Commander of Kirkwall and she was the Warden-Commander of Ferelden; they would always have obligations and duties to other things, other people. He had been tortured until he saw her as an abomination waiting to happen. She had treated him like an enemy and a nuisance. They were simply too different; it would never, ever work.

Cullen was stirring, and Toriana had to consciously will the frown from her face as his amber eyes opened slowly to reveal a look of pain and sorrow in that brief moment before he composed himself.

When he saw her laying there awake, looking at him, he smiled a tight smile that didn't reach his eyes and leaned forward a bit. "How are you feeling, Toriana?" he asked, his voice sounding tired.

Tori's stomach growled and she grinned sheepishly, "I guess that answers it for you," she joked lightly, pleased to note that her voice was no longer a whisper, though it was still weak. She felt almost giddy now, knowing that what had happened to her had not been real, and she was in that strange stage of recovery where everything seemed pleasant and dear to her. She was at the stage where she appreciated everything.

This time Cullen's smile was genuine, if tired, and he pushed himself to his feet, "I believe we still have some stew from earlier," he said before he walked off. He was back in a few minutes, sitting close by her side with a bowl, "I'm afraid it's not warm," he said apologetically.

Toriana waved his concern away, "Right now I'm so hungry you could offer me a slab of raw meat and I'd accept it as if it were a fine feast," she joked with a crooked grin. After a near-death experience, she was feeling particularly humorous. It felt good not frowning or arguing or anything of the like; it was in her nature to be lighthearted. It seemed her injury had lightened the tension between the two of them somehow, filling the air with an almost amicable atmosphere that made it easier for them to talk to each other.

Cullen smiled again as he helped her sit up – she couldn't do it on her own as the pain in her side increased tenfold whenever she tensed her abdomen – and gave her the bowl of stew, eliciting another joke from her, "You're not going to spoon-feed the wounded soldier?"

He only chuckled and shook his head, "I figure you'd bite my head off if I tried," he replied, making her consider it for a moment before she laughed and nodded with a shrug and a "Most likely."

She tucked into the stew with a rather unladylike abandon, unable to keep herself from slurping as she desperately gulped down the food in an effort to quell the screaming hunger in her stomach. Once she finished she held out the bowl to Cullen with big smile. After she ate three bowls of stew and held the bowl out for more a fourth time, he regarded her with raised eyebrows.

Tori laughed, unashamed of her appetite that was likely even greater than his and was _definitely_ not a ladylike trait. "Grey Warden appetites," she said in explanation, patting her stomach, "Killing darkspawn and the like takes a lot of energy," she winked, surprising even herself at her pleasant manner with him. Hadn't they just been at each others' throats the other day?

Cullen seemed just as surprised, and darted his eyes away with a faint blush rising in his cheeks. He continued to stare at his knees while she finished her fourth bowl and took the empty dish wordlessly. Once he handed the dish to one of his men to clean, an awkwardness settled over them like a blanket. The friendly banter was gone, replaced by a dragging silence.

It was as if they had both realized how they were acting and remembered before she had been hurt, and now Toriana sat and fiddled with her bandages and Cullen avoided looking at her. It didn't help that he also seemed to realize that she wasn't dressed properly, and every time he glanced at her bare shoulders and half-covered stomach his cheeks turned pink and he looked away quickly.

Toriana hated this. She couldn't bear the uncomfortable silence any longer, but she was afraid to bring up what they had been interrupted in talking about before. But it had to be done if they were ever going to be able to remain on pleasant terms with each other, and he didn't appear to be about to bring it up, so she would have to take initiative.

"About… before," she began, cringing at the self-conscious tone to her voice that was so unlike her and glancing around to make sure none of the other Templars were listening. She cleared her throat, not looking at him, and continued in a stronger voice, "I meant what I said. I'm sorry for treating you the way I did."

Maker, but this was almost physically painful! Why did it have to be so hard to admit she was wrong? And why was it so hard to look him in the face? She avoided his stunned gaze, tugging lightly at one of her braids and keeping her eyes fixed on her pant-clad legs.

"I…" Toriana sighed, fighting the urge to just run away, "I want us to be able to talk without glaring daggers at each other. We used to be friends, once, didn't we?" The way she asked the question sounded so vulnerable that she had to resist a cringe as she glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. He nodded slowly, wordlessly, and she swallowed nervously. Why wasn't he saying anything?

"I miss that. Can we at least start over and… I dunno, just _try_ to have even a part of that back? I'm tired of fighting. It's ridiculous. We're not children." Her palms were sweaty and she wiped them surreptitiously on her pants. Why was it she could face hordes of darkspawn without batting an eye, but when it came to emotional conversations of any sort she shied away like a horse before a fire? It made her feel pathetic and foolish.

She forced herself to look at him and saw that his mouth was ever so slightly open and he stared at her face with a look that was clearly surprised. After a moment of silence during which she picked at the hem of her pants and wondered anxiously if he would reject and condemn her, he shook his head in bewilderment.

"Of course we can," he finally said, a hand reaching up to run through his hair, "I… I'm glad you don't, ah…" he chuckled sheepishly and avoided her eyes, "Hate me. That is, I feel the same way."

Toriana felt a relieved and embarrassed smile split her face as the tension broke and she laughed haltingly, "Good, I was afraid you would smite me for a moment there," she joked. She held out a hand, and when he looked at her uncertainly she grinned in an almost goofy manner, feeling like a fool but determined to bring back their friendly conversation. "We're starting over, aren't we? It's a pleasure to meet you, Cullen, my name is Toriana."

This seemed to lighten the mood once again and Cullen smiled in amusement and shook her hand, "The pleasure is all mine."

Even with the smile to take away some of the worry from his face, the shadows under his eyes were still prominent and Toriana suddenly frowned, "You have not been sleeping well?" she asked, no longer able to hide the concern she felt and determined to confront him about the matter. Exhaustion to such a degree was dangerous, and could get him killed if he wasn't getting enough rest.

Cullen's smile left his face and he looked away, "It's no problem," he said, clearly avoiding the question.

Toriana sighed and crossed her arms, "Don't lie to me," she said with a serious look that made him shift uncomfortably and stare at the ground. "It's obvious you're exhausted. You have trouble sleeping?"

After a long moment of silence, just as she was about to huff and give up with a harsh comment, he looked back up at her and grimaced, "Dreams." His voice was haggard, and he looked even more tired now. "I have… dreams. Of the cage." He stopped and said no more, but he didn't have to, Tori could see the pain in his eyes and she knew.

So he had nightmares. That was something she could relate to, though hers were a different sort. She tilted her head slightly to the side and frowned at him sympathetically, "Do they always trouble you so?"

Cullen shook his head and rubbed at his forehead, "Only lately. Since…" he glanced at her with a strangely apprehensive look, "Since this situation with the darkspawn."

Tori could see the lie as clear as day, but she didn't want to press the matter now that things were going so well. She gave him a sad smile and barely stopped herself from reaching to pat his arm reassuringly, as she would have done with one of her Wardens. It was too soon for that sort of gesture. "I hope you find the rest you need," she said gently.

Fatigue washed over her body in waves. She had been growing increasingly tired the more she stayed awake and had ignored it, but now she couldn't fight the ache in her muscles and the yawn that made her jaw crack. She gave Cullen a sheepish, apologetic smile, "I guess I'm still weak, can't stay awake for long," she said, looking down at her bandages and shuddering as she thought of the maggots she had seen crawling in her flesh during her hallucinations. "I hope I may find rest as well," she muttered under her breath.

Cullen nodded, "Sleep peacefully," he said softly before shifting his gaze down the path of the Deep Roads, eyes watchful but weary and full of thoughts. As she laid down and rolled onto her side to sleep, she was suddenly reminded of the lion from her dream—hallucination. Those eyes held the same silent, regal power Cullen possessed, and she couldn't help but feel safe.

After all, she had a lion of her own watching over her, now.

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><p><strong>I wish I had a Cullen lion to watch over <em>me<em> xD**


	14. Naughty Dreams

**Author's Note:** This chapter is moderately not safe for work.

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><p>Cullen was exhausted. It took some convincing on Tomas's part, but finally the young templar managed to convince him to go sleep, promising he would keep a watchful eye over the Warden-Commander until he returned. Tomas was a good man, his gaze was alert and watchful as he settled down beside Toriana's sleeping form; he was one of the two of his men he fully trusted to watch over her while he slept.<p>

It wasn't exactly distrust he had for his men, he simply knew some of them didn't take kindly to mages and would not appreciate the task of watching over one. And so, in order to avoid someone not doing their job to the fullest extent, or someone harboring resentment towards the Commander of the Grey, he only let Tomas and one other – a templar whose illegitimate son was a mage in the Gallows – guard her while he got his little patches of rest.

Settling onto his bedroll, however, Cullen knew sleep was a ways away. His mind was full of thoughts of _her_, of what had happened. To say he had been shocked by what had conspired would be an understatement.

_We used to be friends, once, didn't we? I miss that._

Toriana's words had made his jaw drop, and his heart had immediately sped up. She had considered them friends, as well? To hear that, and to hear that she wanted them to be friends again, was a relief. He was tired of the fighting, too.

He felt like a young man in the Circle again, stumbling over his words as he replied to her. He couldn't help but notice the curve of her neck, the flat muscles in her stomach, the fact that her skin looked as soft and smooth as silk, but covered flesh that was taut and firm from a life he knew was harsher than his own.

She was covered by a multitude of scars, but rather than mar her beauty, it only enhanced her… _deadly sex goddess_-ness. The term came unbidden to his mind, and he felt a stab of aggression for the elf that had said it to her, but he knew that it fit her perfectly. He had never met another woman in his life that had that fierce and deadly look so well blended with her beauty and compassion. She _was_ a goddess.

Cullen closed his eyes and his thoughts drifted towards the end of their conversation. Her concern had surprised him, and he had instantly replied with a response that was vague and avoidant. She hadn't fallen for it, and the look she gave him as she said 'Don't lie to me' had made him feel like a child caught lying. Was he that transparent? Or was she just that observant?

He had almost confessed the truth about the dreams, that they had started since she came to Kirkwall, but in his mind that sounded too accusing, too… too much like admitting she had affected him so strongly. Even with their renewed friendship of sorts, he wasn't ready to admit to her just how much she had affected him. And so he changed his answer, blamed the dreams on the darkspawn.

Cullen shifted to find a more comfortable position on his bedroll. They had been down in the Deep Roads for almost four days now, the other Wardens had been gone for three days. Once they returned with the women, Toriana would need time to recover before she would be able to venture back into the Deep Roads to kill the remaining darkspawn.

Perhaps… Just maybe he would join her for a drink at the tavern she was staying in, maybe even a meal. They could talk, mend their broken friendship, and perhaps even get closer…

_No._ Cullen had to drag his thoughts away from that temptation. They could never be together, in any way. It would be… a disaster. And she likely did not think of him in the same way he thought of her, the way he had thought of her since he met her all those years ago in the tower. His attraction to her was a distraction, and a dangerous one. But he could not stop himself thinking of her, of her smile, of how her lips had felt the day she had kissed him…

He knew nothing would ever come of it, she would never have the same thoughts of him, but he also knew he would never be able to simply stifle the infatuation; it hadn't worked years ago, and it wouldn't work now. He would simply have to suffer through his thoughts, his urges, until she left Kirkwall – likely to never return.

At least they would be friends, now; that comforted him. He could take what small pleasure he could from the smiles she sent his way, now, the laughter that filled the air as they talked. It would have to be enough for him.

In the dark, eerie silence of the Deep Roads, he closed his eyes and sleep finally came to him.

"_Cullen."_

_His eyes opened and she was leaning over him, her dark hair falling to frame her face. Those big brown eyes looked down at him with anxiety and warmth and something more… carnal that made him feel suddenly hot, his throat suddenly dry. Her hand was on his cheek, tracing the shape of his face with light fingers._

"_I've tried so hard to stop myself," she whispered, nervously licking her lips so they shone pink. "But… I just can't, anymore." She shifted where she was kneeling beside him and put her other hand on his chest. "I haven't been able to stop thinking about you."_

_The confession made Cullen's breath hitch in his chest as he stared up at her, unable to speak._

"_Ever since that night, when we kissed… You've been on my mind." Her voice was soft, but there was a desire in her tone, in the way her fingers slowly curled on his chest until she was grasping at the front of his shirt. "I know it's wrong, I know what we are and that the world disapproves of this, but… I can't help that I want you. Now, more than anything."_

_Cullen's pulse raced and he found it hard to breathe, looking up into those chocolate-brown eyes. Her hair tickled his chin, and now the hand she had placed on his cheek moved up to run through his hair. As her fingernails grazed his scalp in a tantalizing caress, he couldn't restrain himself any longer._

_He grabbed her shoulders and pulled her to him with such a force that their teeth clicked together as he moved to kiss her. His bottom lip split in the collision, and though a small trickle of blood trailed down his chin she merely pulled away ever so slightly and licked it off before she took his lip into her mouth and sucked the sting away._

_The groan that broke from his lips made her press herself harder onto him, shifting her body so she was laying on top of him. Their kiss was long and deep, full of a burning need as they grasped at each other, unable to get close enough, to press against each other hard enough. Her hands were under his shirt, her nails raking down his chest with a fervor that made him breathe even more heavily as he possessed her mouth with his._

_She was only wearing pants, the wrap around her breasts, and the bandages, but even so her body was hot, the air around her sizzling with warmth. His hands slipped underneath the waistband of her pants and grasped at her bottom, pulling her up so she was pressed against his hardness. She gasped against his mouth, then let out a moan that sent shivers down his spine as he ground his hips against hers._

_Then her hand was around him, grasping with a firmness that made his hips jerk uncontrollably. He wanted her, more than he had ever wanted her before. He wanted to claim her as his, to hear her moan his name and to look into her eyes as he took her. With a swiftness that startled even him, he flipped them so he was on top of her, pressing down against her willing body with a burning ardor._

_As his fingers slid into her pants and curled into the wetness he found there, she looked up at him with a look that made his breathing increase even more as his desire, if possible, grew. "Cullen..." she whimpered, pressing herself against him, begging him to do what he had wanted to do for so long..._

"_Cullen…"_

"Cullen!"

With a start, Cullen awoke, hurtling into a sitting position in the hopes that it – coupled with his thick armor skirt – would hide the evidence of his arousal. Toriana's hand was on his armored shoulder and her eyes were wide with a wild desperation as she panted on her knees by his side.

It was a moment of sleepy confusion before the sounds of fighting registered and he tore his bewildered look away from the Warden-Commander to see his small company of templars engaged in battle with darkspawn. He cursed himself for having such a foolish dream - he hadn't one of _those_ types of dreams in _years_ - that kept him from waking immediately, that left him so disoriented. Just as he heard a cry of pain and saw one of his men go down with a vicious hurlock sword in his gut, he heard Toriana's voice beside him, tight with barely restrained fear.

"We're under attack!"

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><p><strong>Cliffhangers, cliffhangers, I love you! ;) Naughty Cullen and his naughty dreams... ;9<strong>


	15. The Ogre's Charge

**Author's Note:** Phew, this chapter was a toughie to write! I still feel like it's... wrong. I'm not the best at writing action scenes, haha, but at least you all will get the gist of what's happening ;)

And let me just say thank you so so much to everyone who has taken the time to post a comment - it really means the world to me, I'm not exaggerating when I say I re-read all my reviews at least once before I write each chapter. They make me so happy and give me the will to write when I've lost it, and I just really appreciate it, you guys, thank you :)

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><p>Tomas had shaken her awake, pulling her to her feet and pressing his shield into her hands so she could protect herself, even as she was blinking away her grogginess. As he pushed her towards his Commander's sleeping form and turned to meet the blade of an attacking darkspawn, Toriana felt a rush of affection for the boy. He could have left her laying there and defended himself, but he had stuck to his orders and protected her, relinquishing his shield so she would have some measure of safety.<p>

A genlock broke through the line of templars and charged at her, and for a moment she felt a rush of terror flood her veins at the similarities between this – the standing in no armor with no real weapon, alone against darkspawn in a weakened state – and her earlier hallucination. The memories of her torture made her freeze for a moment before she came to her senses. She was not alone, and she at least had a shield as well as her magic to protect her.

She was glad she had eaten so much food before she slept, for though her side pained her with every move she made, she now had the energy to slam the shield into the genlock's approaching face. The crunch as the shield cracked the creature's skull was sickeningly satisfying, but the pleasure didn't last long when she realized just how many darkspawn were attacking the camp. They had to escape, now, or it would be a massacre – eleven templars and one wounded Grey Warden could not hold off what looked to be almost a hundred monsters.

Toriana hefted the heavy piece of metal, doing her best to ignore the pain in her side, and stumbled over to Cullen's side, calling his name as she darted her eyes about to watch for any more darkspawn that may have broken through to attack her. When he didn't respond, didn't stir, she grabbed his shoulder with the hand not grasping the shield and shook him rather roughly, calling his name again.

Finally he opened his eyes and was sitting up, looking confused and… something else, and Toriana found she couldn't speak for a moment at the intensity of his gaze. She swallowed, grasping tighter to his armor to keep herself from teetering at the sudden wave of agony in her side, and managed to get out, "We're under attack!"

That brought him to his senses. With a practiced grace, Cullen was at his feet with his sword and shield in his hands, pulling her up beside him and stepping in front of her. She grasped at her shield, feeling useless and vulnerable without her staff and especially with no armor on.

"Stay close to me, I'll protect you." His deep voice, so steady even in the face of chaos, calmed her anxiety and brought her into her Grey Warden mindset. She nodded, even though he couldn't see her from behind him, and stayed by his side as he shouted for his men to fall back, to head for the surface, and joined the battle.

Another genlock came at her, sword raised, and Toriana called for her magic. It came with a surprising ferocity, considering her injury, and roared through her body. With a snarl on her face she sent a fireball at the monster, killing it instantly and setting flame to three darkspawn that had been near it as well.

Now that she had her magic – raw and untamed as it was since she didn't have her staff to focus it – she felt more confident. She threw her shield at the approaching darkspawn with a force, knowing its weight would only slow her down if she held on to it, and her hands became a blur as she began to cast destructive spells on their enemies.

Magic crackled in the air all around her, and she began to notice the men's injuries, one with a broken arm, another limping, and yet another bleeding from a gash in his side. She shifted her attentions to healing and was thankful she had let Wynne tutor her in healing magic during the Blight.

Cullen fought with a fierceness and strength that awed her. He drew the darkspawn to himself, hoping to keep their attention from focusing on his men and her in an attempt to protect them. Even as he was injured – a cut under his eye, an arrow in his leg which he broke off to keep out of his way– he kept fighting, his features forming into a determined scowl. Tori healed him whenever he was hurt as best as she could, but she could already feel her strength waning.

The retreat was slow. They could not break into a run or they would be taken down from behind, and so they backed up bit by bit, fighting every step of the way.

Another templar was down, overwhelmed by the large amounts of darkspawn. His screams echoed in Toriana's ears until she had to bite her lip to focus herself, to fight off the guilt of not having saved him. It was too late for him, so she had to focus on getting the rest out alive. Grieving always came later, in the safety and privacy of her own room.

They were moving farther and farther back, retreating down the halls of the Deep Roads, but they were growing fatigued. It had to have been at least an hour of fighting, struggling to stay alive, and the templars weren't used to this kind of combat.

Cullen kept them together, his commanding voice and presence served to rally his men and keep them fighting even through their exhaustion. He killed creature after creature, even when Tori could see the weariness in his limbs, the shadows under his eyes growing darker. She lent him all the strength she could, pouring her magic into his body as a source of energy, a healing force to steady his shaking arms. But it wasn't enough.

It happened quickly, as such things always do. Toriana heard a roar that she knew so well, and shouted a warning even as the ogre appeared, trampling the smaller darkspawn in its hunger to reach them. It happened quickly, the ogre lowered its head as it neared them and charged, and she felt herself flying through the air before being slammed into a wall and slumping to the floor, dazed and winded.

She raised her head in time to see the giant creature's claws close around Cullen's body and it slammed him into the ground. The cry that wrenched from her throat echoed over the din of battle, and she threw herself to her feet, ignoring the agony in her side. The monster was raising the stunned Knight-Commander to smash him into the ground again.

Toriana's hands burned, and her magic crashed through her like a waterfall against rocks, bringing pain to her head and making the air around her shimmer with a blue aura. She was _not_ going to lose Cullen so soon after they had mended their broken friendship, and _definitely_ not to a damn bloody ogre!

The power in her built up, boiling in her body, until she felt sweat dripping down her neck and her brow creased with the effort of holding the spell. Time seemed to slow as magic filled every inch of her being, burning and twisting and writhing to be released; and behind that paced shadows of evil and hatred, waiting for her to slip up, to give them the split second chance they needed to rush in and find their own freedom within her body. Finally, when she felt she would die or become possessed if she focused her magic any longer, she unleashed it, directing it towards the monstrous creature that held the Knight-Commander high in the air.

The roar was deafening as molten flames burst as if from inside the creature, charring flesh and turning bones to dust. The ogre let out a gurgling bellow and teetered, still grasping its prey in its hand, before the flames moved to eat at its limbs and it fell to the ground with a thundering crash.

Toriana stumbled, nearly falling herself as her strength left her. That had been a massive spell to kill a massive creature, and now she found she could barely stagger to Cullen's side where he was frantically trying to escape the clutches of the dead and burning monster. The templars formed a defensive ring around their Commander, desperately holding off the darkspawn as Tori wrenched the creature's claws open, burning her hands in the process, and he fell out onto the floor, gasping and coughing and clutching at his side.

There was blood on his lips, blood spattering down his chin and onto the floor when he coughed, spraying from his lungs. So much blood, he was swimming in it. Toriana didn't notice the shouts as her Grey Warden companions appeared, joining the templars to fight off the darkspawn. She dropped to her knees beside Cullen and pulled his arm away from his torso with a detached calm.

"Don't move," she ordered, her voice coming out composed and almost cold, a startling contrast to her racing mind and the bubble of panic that was beginning to swell in her chest. At least one of his ribs was broken, and one had punctured a lung. If she didn't do something, and do it immediately, he would die painfully, suffocating on his own blood.

Even as she was trembling inside, Toriana's hands were steady as she unbuckled Cullen's breastplate and lifted it off of him, tossing it aside. She carefully lifted his shirt to reveal his chest, where deadly black, red and blue bruises were spreading. He was watching her, his amber eyes fixed on her face between coughs, but she couldn't look at him, couldn't let him see the despair that was surely in her eyes, the despair that was gripping onto her heart.

She did not know if she could mend such an injury. Not in the weak state she was in, with the taint of the darkspawn pressing in on her like a curtain of darkness, stifling her.

He saw. He must have seen the look in her eyes as she stared at his broken body, because he grabbed her wrist as she reached to lay her hand on his chest to attempt to heal him. "Go," he choked out, pausing to cough as she looked at him in horror. He pushed her hand away and dropped it, "Take my men and get them out—" another cough interrupted him.

"No." Toriana's eyes flashed and she glared at him, her calm exterior breaking. He began to protest and she snarled. "Shut your mouth!" That stopped him momentarily as he stared at her, stunned, and she continued in a fiery voice, "I'm healing you and you're walking your sorry templar ass out of here, damn it!"

That actually made him chuckle, though he immediately stopped and groaned in pain, going to clutch at his ribs again. Tori slapped his arm away, her face still screwed up into a vicious scowl, and placed her palms as gently as she could on his chest, though he still winced at the contact. She meant what she said; she wasn't leaving him here to die, not in the Deep Roads. Especially not after he had taken care of her, watched over her when she had been wounded and delirious. His trying to stop her only made her want to throttle him even as she healed him - she'd be damned if she let him die like this. Hell _no_.

"Now keep quiet and don't move," she snapped, her voice a contrast to her soft touch.

She was thankful he listened to her as she let her magic course through her body and out her hands in a blue glow. It eased into his chest, seeping through tissue and bone and blood vessels to the puncture in his lung; she guided it with eyes closed, focusing on the feel of his body, the information her magic sent back to her, letting her know what was wrong and what she could do about it.

As the fighting died around them, the last of the darkspawn being chased down by the other Wardens, Toriana poured all her strength into healing Cullen. Those around them had fallen silent, watching, as the blue glow spread from her hands and over his chest, casting a strange light on their faces.

Tori didn't notice anyone around her, she was squeezing her eyes tight, leaning over Cullen's chest, her hair unintentionally falling to brush his skin much like it had in his dream. Her magic poured through her, and as it started to wane she forced it, pushed herself harder to draw more power until her head started pounding and her whole body began to burn with pain.

Finally, as she felt herself about to go unconscious – or perhaps that was the Fade about to swallow her up and send her away to death – Toriana wrenched her hands away and severed the connection between them. Her entire body shook and she felt drained of everything: strength, mana, will, thoughts, sensations, _life_. She had only pushed herself that hard twice before, once when she fought Uldred and she had desired nothing more than his death, and again when Alistair had nearly died only days before the fight with the Archdemon. And she had _never_ pushed herself so hard in such a weakened state.

She knew she hadn't healed Cullen entirely, but she had fixed his lung and mended his ribs, and he would live. It was the best she could do for now. Once they got back to the surface he could be healed properly, the blood restored to his body and the shredded tissue knitted together.

Exhaustion such as she had never known overwhelmed her body and, unable to hold herself up any longer, Toriana slumped to the ground and the world went black.

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><p><strong>I think I'm addicted to cliffhanger-ish endings...<strong>


	16. Desperate Measures

Before she even opened her eyes, Toriana could sense the sunlight. It brushed her skin like a gentle lover, warming her and encasing her in a soft embrace. It wasn't until she opened her eyes that the pain hit her, forcing a gasp from her lips. Her head felt like an anvil being relentlessly pounded by a hammer, and her side burned like a fiery brand.

There was such an aching fatigue in her body she could do nothing more than move her eyes. Above her were trees, and she was moving at a jostling speed. She was in someone's arms, held like a babe or a bride across their arms. A look showed her it was Pater, who noticed her eye movement and glanced down at her a moment before moving his eyes back to stare ahead.

"Commander. It's good to see you awake."

Tori tried to speak, but she couldn't even move her mouth. A horrible, paralyzing numbness she hadn't noticed before held her body, so she could do nothing but stare blankly at the older man. She felt weak, vulnerable, and panicked, even though she knew she was safe with the senior Warden.

When she tried to touch the Fade, to feel the reassuring flush of her magic, she found she could sense it, but it was out of reach, much like seeing your destination in the distance but being too weakened to reach it. She had exhausted her magic, and though she knew it would return after much rest she still felt a clawing panic at the knowledge that her strongest, her best, weapon was incapacitated. It made her feel helpless, a feeling she didn't feel often, and one that she hated.

Toriana tried to look around, to see where Cullen was, but could see nothing but trees. She couldn't even ask Pater if the Knight-Commander was alright or what had happened, for it was obvious they were no longer in the Deep Roads.

Concern wriggled in her gut. Had her healing worked? Was he going to make it? Or was he laying dying even as they traveled? An ache grew in her chest, even as her eyes slowly closed, and as she fell back into unconsciousness one thought ran through her head.

_He had better be okay._

. . . . .

Voices awoke her. Toriana was in a bed now, and she kept her eyes wearily closed as she listened.

"The irony is not lost on me that a Templar comes to the mages for help." A slow, superior sounding voice, male, with a strong Kirkwaller accent.

It was Pater who responded in the tight, overly polite voice he reserved for people he didn't particularly like. "Regardless of irony or station, he is in need of aid. Would you see a man die for your pride, ser?" The mention of death made Tori's heart skip a beat. Was Cullen so close to death?

The mage's voice held barely contained contempt, "Do not speak to me of pride, Warden. Regardless of the Templar's need, all of our healers were mercilessly murdered by the Templars in the recent massacre I'm sure you heard of. Kinloch Hold has yet to send us more. He may stay here, as well as the Warden-Commander – as she is of our kind – but we cannot heal him."

There was silence for a moment. "You may go." Pater's voice was dark, and when Toriana opened her eyes she saw him standing beside a bed next to her own, a few feet away. He was looking down at the person in the bed – Cullen – and shaking his head slowly. Moiraine and Carver stood at the foot of her own bed, both with frowns at the back of the departing mage.

Toriana looked at Cullen as well. He looked deceivingly peaceful, but she could see the pallor of his skin, which looked almost gray, and the layer of sweat coating his face. She could easily see the veins running along his neck and cheek, and the shadows under his eyes had darkened to look like bruises. He certainly looked close to death.

Even from the distance, she could _feel_ him as if he were right beside her, as if he were a Grey Warden, or…

Then it hit her. "He's tainted!" she rasped, relieved to learn she could talk now. All heads swiveled to her, and Moiraine's face lit up in a smile.

"You're awake!" she went to Tori's side and took her hand, "We were so worried!"

Tori smiled briefly, then turned serious again. "He's tainted," she repeated, almost disbelievingly. How had it happened? That was a silly question, considering he had been injured in the Deep Roads, fighting _darkspawn_, but she could still hardly believe it. Why would the Maker do such a thing to a good man? It was just another sign in her mind that if the Maker existed, he did not understand the meaning of fairness.

Moiraine frowned, but it was Pater who spoke first. "Yes, Commander. What shall we do about it?"

Toriana froze. She couldn't make such a decision. Not when she knew whom it concerned personally, not when she cared about him…

"Why would you call for a healer if he is tainted?" she asked, almost accusingly. The easiest way to deal with a difficult decision was to put it off.

Moiraine replied this time, after shooting a questioning glance at the other Wardens. "We thought it would be good to try to heal his other injuries until you awoke… To keep all options open for you."

The implication made Toriana pause. She _could_ make him a Grey Warden, to stave off the taint… He certainly was a good fighter, and he had the determination for such a position. But what they said was true, he would have to be healed first or he would never survive the Joining.

If he could survive at all.

She swallowed. First step was to find a healer, for she would take too long to recover to do it herself. But if the Mages' Circle in the city had none…

"The Mages' Collective," she murmured. At her fellows' strange looks, she raised her voice, "It's a… collaboration of apostates and Liberalist and Isolationist mages who help each other," she clarified, her voice and resolve strengthening with each word. "If you fetch me a parchment and pen, I can tell you where to put the message."

Carver nodded when Moiraine glanced at him, and left the room. In his absence, Pater and Moiraine filled her in on what had happened over the past few days since they parted ways in the Deep Roads.

By the time they found the main group of darkspawn, the women were all either dead or turned into broodmothers. They estimated the darkspawn to be around 200 in number, but steadily growing now that they had three breeders. They had been attacked as they went to leave, but managed to escape with minor injuries and no followers.

Their arrival had been in just in time to kill the darkspawn while Tori healed Cullen. After she had gone unconscious, the remaining Wardens and Templars managed to make a stretcher for the Knight-Commander while Pater and Mekel switched off carrying Toriana.

It had taken a full day to reach Kirkwall, which gave Toriana hope that Cullen could still be saved with so little time passed since he had been tainted. When Carver returned with supplies, she hastily scribbled a basic note in one of the simple Mages' Collective ciphers she had learned years ago. Decoded, it said:

_Friends,_

_A comrade is near death and requires immediate aid. A skilled and compassionate healer shall be well rewarded. The Sunflower grows beneath a noose._

Sunflower. The code name she had used since she had found the Mages' Collective during the Blight. It was almost ironic, in a way, that a sweet young Templar's kindness had inspired a name for a rebel mage, but now she only found it fitting that his kindness would, hopefully, be repaid, in a way.

Tori rolled up the note and handed it to Pater. She explained where the secret compartment was in the side of a building on the docks, and how he could access it by tracing a special rune with his finger over a certain brick. She had learned where to find all the Mages' Collective secret spots in the major cities of Thedas from Wynne, of all people. As it turned out, compassionate healers learned many things others didn't, and the old woman had healed many in her long life.

With instructions to go to the Hanged Man until someone came asking for the Sunflower, Pater nodded and departed. Toriana feigned sleepiness, then lay in her bed looking at Cullen. It wasn't that she did not want their company, she just couldn't take the questions they were bound to ask. They were questions she did not want to think about.

Cullen's hair looked like a reddish-gold halo with the sunlight streaming through it, and she was struck by the sudden thought of angels she had heard about in the Chantry of the Circle. Lily, Jowan's love, had said Tori was an angel when she had agreed to help her best friend escape with her.

Thinking of Jowan was painful and confusing, so she pushed the thought away and instead looked at Cullen more closely. His top half was bare, though the blanket covering him concealed all but his broad shoulders and arms.

It suddenly occurred to her that she had _never_ seen Cullen out of his armor. He seemed strange without it, smaller, though his shoulders and arms were well-muscled. He wasn't as large as Alistair, but his body was the hard planes and maturity of a full man, not a boy just entered manhood as Alistair had been. She decided she liked the shape of his body, the harsh angles of his muscles and faint traces of scars on his sun-darkened skin. He was a very handsome man, and with the (generally) gentle and thoughtful manner he had, she couldn't help but wonder why he had no wife yet.

"You will make me jealous, my dear Warden, the way you stare at him with those puppy eyes."

Toriana nearly leaped out of her skin at Zevran's voice beside her, opposite the side Cullen was on. When she whipped her head around to look at him with wide eyes, her expression quickly turned to a scowl at the teasing grin gracing his full lips.

Of course. He had a knack for stealthing and spying at the worst of times. In the past when she had caught him outside her tent where she and Alistair were curled up in each others' arms talking and accused him of being addicted to eavesdropping, he had merely winked and said he could think of a couple of things he was far more addicted to.

"On second thought, I am glad it is not me, it is making me rather sick to watch you fawn so."

Tori snorted even as she felt her cheeks heat up. "I am _not_ fawning," she growled, "I am concerned for his safety. You look for things that are not there."

Zevran shrugged nonchalantly then his grin widened, "Your red cheeks say otherwise, my dear."

She rolled her eyes and mimicked the action of throwing something at him, though she could not help the smirk that invaded her features. "Cheeky as always, elf," she said with an amused look, to which he chuckled. "Who said you could spy on me?"

Zevran winked impishly, "Perhaps I am merely checking to see if you have replaced me as your lover?"

Toriana rolled her eyes and scoffed, "As if you would care," she chided lightly. It was true; he had even encouraged her to find another man, even when they had been together, and he certainly had not been exclusive in his affections, either. Such had not been the nature of their relationship. They had not been truly lovers, merely close friends with... physical perks.

The blonde elf smiled back at her, "Ah, dear Tori, you have caught me. In fact, I'm afraid my services are also no longer available. Do not weep you will move on I know," he joked.

She raised her eyebrows. Now _that_ was a new one. Unable to contain her curiosity, she narrowed one eye and cocked her head to one side. "Did some lover cut off your parts and run away with them?" she asked with a devious glint in her eye.

His reply was oddly serious, and he glanced out the window with a wistful smile on his face, "She stole something of mine, yes…" he murmured.

Toriana's jaw dropped. And he had said _she_ made puppy eyes! "Dear Maker!' she exclaimed, "Zevran, you must share the news. Who is she?"

Zevran glanced at her with a light dancing in his eyes, "She is a complex woman. Perhaps I will take the time to tell you of her once you tell me of this Templar of yours."

Her eyes widened in surprise. If he wasn't sharing every last sexual detail as soon as she asked, then it had to be serious. Then what he said hit her and she scowled and growled out, "Then I suppose I will never hear of this love of yours since I have _nothing to tell_."

The elf chuckled and stood, putting his hands up in mock defeat, "Fine, fine, Warden, there will be no sharing today. I shall leave you to ogle your Templar in peace."

And before Tori could protest, Zevran was gone. She glared at the empty space where he had been, then looked back at Cullen. There was nothing to tell. Was there?

She shook her head and closed her eyes. No. There would never be anything else between them. As much as she may ever like any man or want to share her bed with him, her heart still belonged to Alistair. There would never be another for her.

As she began to drift back into sleep, Toriana suddenly felt very sad at that thought.


	17. Return of the Apostate

**Author's Note:** And here's the second update for the week, I hope it's sufficient! If it's a little scatterbrained, I apologize, I've been writing in my notebook and I keep having to stop and do stuff here in Romania, so I keep writing when I'm in different states of mind (and when I've been speaking Romanian all day, which messes with my English grammar xD), which is bad, haha.

Let me know what you think of where the story is going, I'd like to know if everything makes sense and works well, plot-wise :) Also, character development... Am I portraying Anders alright? I'm always scared I'll go out of character with canon characters... I'd love any feedback! Thank you!

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><p>When Toriana awoke, the light outside the window told her it was either dawn or dusk. Her side ached, but her head was mercifully clear. She still could not reach her magic, but she knew she was closer to it now than she had been before.<p>

The room was empty save for Cullen. He looked even worse than before, and his breath was coming out in shallow gasps. Worry stabbed in her chest. How long had she been asleep? How long had the darkspawn taint been moving through him?

With a heave, Toriana managed to pull herself upright with a horrible pain in her wound. She slid her feet out from under the blanket and shivered at the feel of the cold stone floor against her skin.

Somehow, even with the weakness in her body and the pain in her side, Toriana made it to Cullen's bed. She lowered herself to sit beside him on the mattress as smoothly as she could so as not to disturb him, then pressed a hand to his forehead.

He was disturbingly cold, despite the sweat covering his body. It was again strange to touch him, yet she did not want to pull away.

Cullen stiffened and his entire face contorted into a look of pain. A small, barely audible noise escaped from his mouth that made Toriana's throat tighten, it was such a lost, hopeless sound. Automatically, her hand slid down to his cheek and her other hand found his and held it. She tried to pour as much comfort as she could into her touch, tried to send him a feeling of safety, of calm. She knew what it was to have horrible dreams, and her heart went out to him as he suffered.

After a moment, he began to relax and his breathing slowed somewhat. His eyelids fluttered, and Tori snatched her hand away from his cheek, suddenly conscious of the improper familiarity of her touch.

Amber eyes peeked out from under heavy eyelids, and Toriana gave Cullen a weak smile. He did not return it, and she could see the pain in his eyes.

He slowly turned his head to look down at where she still held his hand, and though her face colored she did not let go. "You were having a bad dream," she explained lamely in a low voice.

Much to her surprise, the corners of Cullen's lips turned up ever so slightly and his fingers pressed against hers weakly. She felt embarrassed knowing he was likely somewhat delirious from his injury and illness and probably couldn't fully understand the intimacy of his touch, the way he was looking at her, but she could not bring herself to pull away. The look in his eyes held her, and she found herself unable to breathe for a moment. It had been a long, long time since anyone had looked at her in such a way.

The door opened and Toriana startled and turned to see who had come. She tried to let go of Cullen's hand, but he held hers as if she was keeping him alive, so she let him continue.

A woman with shoulder-length hair and pale skin entered, slightly crouched as if she was ready to use the dagger strapped to her back if need be. Her strikingly blue eyes darted about the room for a moment before she stood straight as if satisfied and nodded to someone outside the door.

A tall man with dirty blonde hair and wary brown eyes entered cautiously, removing a large brown cloak to reveal black, feathered mage robes. Toriana studied his tired face, feeling as if he looked very familiar…

"_Anders?_"

When his eyes darted to her face, startled, and he gave her a wary look, Toriana's eyes widened. He was hardly the cheeky, witty, playful man she remembered. Now she could see the wariness and exhaustion in his face and body, the unkempt nature about him, as if it had been a long time since he had properly attended to his appearance. His once always-present stubble had grown into a short, fuzzy beard, and the limp hair pulled back into a half-ponytail was ratty and had a greasy sheen to it. Now that she looked, his female companion didn't look much better. Tori didn't know what to say.

"What happened to your earring?" she asked in a hollow voice, feeling foolish as soon as the question was out of her mouth.

It seemed to be the right thing to say, because Anders face lightened a bit as he laughed, and the blue-eyed woman raised an eyebrow at him. "Earring?" she asked in a sly voice, revealing a strong southern Ferelden accent.

Toriana glanced between the two as they shared a look, feeling a bit surprised. The bond between the two before her was clearly strong - it was as if when they looked at each other there were no others in the room; she was happy for him, though she hadn't imagined him the type to settle down. But there was some undercurrent, as if there was something darker the two of them weren't mentioning, a rift between them that went unspoken.

Anders moved to stand beside Toriana with a smirk on his face, "So you're the Sunflower, then? I would have thought you would have chosen 'wildcat,' or 'viper' or 'vicious battlemage' as your name. Something better suited to your temperament."

Tori snorted in amusement, then glanced down at Cullen, wondering if he made the connection between her name and his past deed. The look in his eyes, fixed on her face, said he did, and she felt her cheeks turn red as she turned back to look at Anders, who was staring at Cullen as well with a dark expression on his weary face.

"Interesting company you keep now, Tori," the blonde growled, and Tori narrowed her eyes at him. She had never heard him sound so… menacing. And what was the blue glowing in his eyes that reminded her so much of the Fade? Her instincts were telling her danger was close, and her whole body tensed. If she had to fight an old friend to defend an innocent, injured man, then so be it, she would. Nine years was a long time, people could change drastically.

The black-haired woman stepped forward and put a hand on his shoulder, looking up at his face. "Anders," she said softly, as if calling to him. "He helped us, he let us go. _He's a good man_. And this woman is your friend."

Toriana watched as his fists clenched and his eyes blazed for a moment before they returned to brown and he gazed down at his lover with a look she could not interpret. After a moment, he sighed and nodded, moving to the other side of the bed.

"We can talk later, Tori. For now I need to concentrate. What happened to him?" He paused for a moment, tilting his head slightly as if listening for a faint tune, "It feels almost as if he is—"

Tori shook her head sharply, cutting him off before he could mention the taint, "For now, know that his ribs were broken. I healed him as best I could, but I was injured and my strength…" she trailed off, shrugging and gesturing to her bandaged side.

She realized now how indecent she must look, in only pants, her chest wrap, and her bandages. Anders had seen her in less, having healed her many times when she hadn't the strength herself, but to the woman she must have seemed… of loose morals. And yet the woman did not seem bothered by it one bit.

Interesting.

Anders nodded and pulled a chair from the corner of the room to sit before leveling his hands a few inches above Cullen's body. The Templar's eyes had closed again, but he still clung to her hand as tightly as his strength would allow.

As the blue glow began to flow from Anders' hands and he slipped into his healing trance, Toriana turned to the woman who was watching him with a hand on her stomach and a small smile on her face. Something in her features looked almost familiar.

"Toriana," she introduced herself with a welcoming – if a bit tired – smile.

The woman returned the smile, "Hawke," she replied, then seemed to check herself, "Marian Hawke, that is." She chuckled, "I seem to forget I have a first name as well, sometimes." The name stirred in Tori's memory, but she couldn't place her finger on where she had heard it before.

Tori grinned, "And sometimes I forget I have a last name. We're quite a pair."

They shared a quick laugh and there was a moment of silence, then Marian spoke, glancing at Anders, "So you knew Anders before…"

Toriana nodded, also looking at him as he worked, "When he was a Grey Warden? Yes. He helped us fight off the darkspawn uprising after the Blight. He held off the siege of Vigil's Keep, you know, for five days." Hawke smiled at this and regarded him proudly. Toriana grinned slyly, "The men challenged him to a drinking contest after the battle. He lost, and woke up sleeping next to Oghren in only his skivvies!"

Hawke raised an eyebrow, "The dwarf he spoke of? With the ridiculous beard and the drinking problem?" When Tori nodded, she roared with laughter and the Warden-Commander joined in.

When Hawke sobered, Toriana looked between the two. "It's good to see he's found a nice girl to settle down with. He was a bit wild back in the day, if I remember correctly."

Hawke's eyes warmed and she looked at Anders, "Yes," she said softly, then she glanced at Tori with a wry smile, "I know he used to... get around. Don't tell me you and he…?" The look she gave Tori wasn't hostile, more warning than anything; she clearly didn't like the idea of meeting his past lovers.

Toriana quickly shook her head, "Oh no," she chuckled, "I was still getting over a past lover when I met him." _I'm still getting over him…_ "I had no care for another man."

Hawke's look was sympathetic, and she looked about to say something when Anders' glow stopped and he slumped in his chair, closing his eyes.

Hawke was at his side, with an arm around his shoulders, in an instant. Tori saw him lean against her and place a hand on her belly whispering something she couldn't hear. Hawke's smile was tender as she ran her hand through his messy hair without a care for how dirty it was, and Toriana felt a pang of jealousy for what they had. She had been in love like that, once.

"He will need a lot of rest," Anders said, breaking her from her thoughts. "I've healed him completely, except for…" he trailed off at Tori's sharp look.

"Come, let's find the kitchens in this damned place so we may eat and talk. You two look half-starved." Tori pushed herself to her feet with some difficulty, and glanced down at Cullen, who still held her hand. He looked slightly better, but it was obvious the taint was taking its toll on him. Though his eyelids were heavy and he was obviously exhausted from the healing, still he watched her.

She suddenly realized he must have heard her entire conversation with Hawke, and felt the sudden urge to flee. She extricated her hand from his and turned to face her new companions, wavering slightly at the dizziness that struck her. She clearly wasn't fully healed yet.

Anders and Hawke each went to either side of her and took her arms to steady her. When she started to protest, Anders waved her into silence, "We can't have you fainting," he admonished.

Toriana cast one last look at Cullen before they left the room. His eyes had fallen nearly shut, but she could still see a glimmer of golden iris, watching her with what looked like sadness as she departed. She was tempted to go back and comfort him, but all she could do was nod and give him a small smile before she was out the door.

* * *

><p><strong>Ahh, the return of one of my favorite characters. Yay, Anders! :D<strong>

**As a side note, I'm planning on writing at least two spin-off stories once AUA is finished or near finished, one about Anders and Hawke, and the other about Zevran and his mysterious love... ;) possibly one about Alistair as well, we shall see. Would any of you read them if I wrote them (that is, does the idea of stories about those characters interest you)? I'd write them anyways even if not, I just like to know if I will have any readers ;)**

**Until the next update, ciao!  
><strong>


	18. Family

**Author's Note:** I know that Carver would not be alive with a rogue Hawke. This Hawke is actually a mage, she just has a dagger on her back as a disguise - after all, she is an apostate and doesn't want to carry a staff around to announce the fact to everyone (because this isn't the game where templars are oblivious. That's always bothered me about the game "oh hey guy with a staff, clearly you're not a mage, even in your magey robes"). So that explains why she had a dagger in the last chapter instead of a staff - not a rogue, just a sneaky mage :3

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><p>As Tori devoured her third plate of sausage and eggs at The Hanged Man (Anders had refused to stay in the Circle, understandably), she told them why she was in Kirkwall and how she and Cullen had been injured. When Anders asked about the nature of her relationship with the Knight-Commander, she schooled her features into an expression of disinterest and aloofness.<p>

"We were friends in the Tower in Ferelden, and now we are working together, that is all."

Anders' eyes widened, and he quickly swallowed his mouthful of food, "Cullen's mage friend? Then are you…?" he glanced at Hawke and back to Tori, "Is your last name… Amell?'

Hawke fixed her ice-colored gaze on her intently, and Tori raised her eyebrows, wondering why this was suddenly relevant to anything, "Yes, why do you ask?"

Anders' grin lightened his face as he looked at his lover who was smiling at the Warden-Commander. "Meet Marian Hawke, whose mother's maiden name was Amell."

Toriana's eyes widened as she stared at the other woman. Marian nodded, "My mother mentioned that her cousin had a child who had been taken by the Templars. I guess that makes us... second cousins? Fancy that."

The next hour was spent talking, catching up and sharing stories. Tori had never known any family, and was eager to hear about her family's lives, as well as her cousins'. She found she quite liked Marian; she was a quick-witted woman with a penchant for making jokes and lightening dark situations with her humor. Tori patted her hand when the woman spoke solemnly of the death of her sister, and when she mentioned her brother Carver joining the Wardens, Toriana grinned. She knew the name Hawke had been familiar.

"Today is a day for reunions, I see. Your brother is one of my companions; in fact he is likely up in his room at this very moment."

Hawke's face lit up and she was on her feet in an instant, her food forgotten and looking down at Anders with a large smile that brightened her face. He shook his head, "He never liked me anyways. You go talk to him while I catch up with Tori." She nodded and kissed his cheek before disappearing up the stairs at Tori's directions.

Anders turned back to Toriana with a grateful look, "He's the last of her family – well, except for you, I suppose. It's good to see her so happy again. They may not get along very well, but they do love each other."

Tori nodded, surprised that she had unwittingly known her own second cousin for years (though she'd rarely interacted with him), and as she finished chewing her food a thought hit her. She remembered something Carver had said about his sister's lover and froze, staring at Anders as he ate. "Anders…" she began, unsure how to approach the subject. She ducked her head and lowered her voice when he looked at her inquiringly. "Tell me it wasn't you," she whispered. He looked confused, but also wary, as if he'd been expecting this, and her brow creased, "I heard about the Chantry. All those innocent people… Why?"

His eyes filled with shame and guilt and pain, and he avoided her gaze. "I have no excuses for what I've done," he murmured in a dark voice. "But we are all murderers, are we not? And who is to decide who is truly innocent?"

Toriana recoiled in shock and opened her mouth to spit out a scathing retort, but they sounded empty in her mind, so she stayed silent. What he said was true, after all, as much as she hated to admit it.

Anders dropped his fork, leaving half his food untouched. Toriana suddenly felt horribly bad for him, sitting there dejectedly and looking as if he hadn't truly rested in weeks, perhaps months. She sighed and pushed her own plate away, finding her appetite had died, "What has happened?" she asked, "The two of you look like foxes being chased down by relentless hounds."

Anders laughed bitterly, his eyes dark, "Nothing I'm not used to," he muttered before looking at the stairs sadly, "But Marian… She is strong, stronger than I, but still I worry for her, running and hiding from those who want my blood for what I've done. Which is nearly everyone in Thedas." He suddenly looked at Tori with a desperately pleading look, "If something happens to me, you'll look after her, won't you?"

She wanted to joke, to tell him Hawke was certainly old enough to take care of herself, but something in his eyes made her swallow and nod, "Of course."

"I knew I could trust you, of all people." He relaxed a bit and rubbed a weary hand down his face before leveling her with another serious gaze, "Toriana, I didn't even think this was possible, since I'm a Grey Warden – or at least I carry the taint of one…" He ran an anxious hand over his hair and took a deep breath before continuing. "But somehow… Marian is… she's going to have a baby."

Toriana's eyes widened and she stared at her old friend, struck dumb. That explained them touching her belly, and him talking to it. She could hardly believe it; she had thought as he had, that the taint would prevent any children of Grey Wardens, but apparently it was not so.

She did not know what to say. For normal people it would be happy news, but the taint complicated things; she had never before heard of a Grey Warden having a child _after_ undergoing the Joining. Anders looked pleased but also lost, as if he did not know what to do, himself. Toriana wanted to say something that would help and patted his hand reassuringly, "It will be okay; the babe will be healthy. And you will be a wonderful father, I'm sure."

He still looked worried, "But we cannot keep running like this. She's barely two months along, but she gets sick and my healing does not help. Soon she will not be able to run any longer. I… I can't stay with her." He looked as if he would fall apart at the very mention of it. "She'll be safer without me around to endanger her."

Tori frowned at him, "You think leaving the mother of your child to raise it alone will be _good_ for them? And here I thought you weren't as much of a fool as everyone seemed to think."

He looked stricken and began to protest, but she cut him off with a hand in the air and a vicious glare. "No, Anders. I refuse to let you do this. It's obvious you two love each other more than the world itself, so I know this is not simply a ploy to escape your responsibility to her. If you truly wish to be with her…" she thought for a moment, "You will both go to Vigil's Keep. The Wardens will protect you. We have no allegiance to the Chantry or Templars, and we've sheltered you, as well as other runaways, before."

Anders looked conflicted, but before he could say anything Hawke came down the stairs with Carver, the two deep in argument. When Carver saw Anders, he scowled darkly and his hand went to the hilt of his sword, but Hawke stopped him. Tori could hear their heated conversation.

"He's a murderer, Marian!" Carver hissed, casting a glare at Anders.

Hawke scowled, "And you haven't killed anyone?" she snipped right back. "You'll have to learn to like him eventually, you know."

Carver scoffed as they neared the table, talking loud enough for Anders to hear with a purposeful glance in the apostate's direction. "_Sure_ I do. I'm still waiting for you to realize he's not good enough for you and leave him as you should have years ago."

Hawke's face had reddened considerably in anger, and once Carver finished talking she whirled on him. "Well I'm not leaving him, and I never will, Carver. I'm pregnant."

Hawke's brother stared at her wordlessly, eyes large, for nearly a minute. She sniffed and glared at him before her face broke into a beaming smile. "You're going to be an uncle," she said softly, the smile evident in her voice.

Carver sputtered for a moment, then smiled back at his sister as if unsure what to do or feel, and wrapped her in a hug. Hawke looked… beautifully happy as she put her arms around his chest, and Anders' eyes practically glowed with relief as he watched them.

Toriana turned and smiled at Anders as she got to her feet, feeling stronger already with the food in her stomach. "I'll leave you three to your family reunion."

Anders lifted a hand as if to stop her, "You're family too, now, you know," he chided lightly with a wry smile.

The Warden-Commander grinned, pleased to no end to feel a part of a family for the first time in her life (and to hear someone say it, as well). It was a strange and wonderful feeling, but it was a bit frightening as well. She didn't know how to act, what to say…

And she could not stay. Cullen needed her. "I have a matter to attend to," she explained, and gestured upstairs, "We've bought out all the rooms until the end of the week, Carver can show you two to mine for the night – I'll be sleeping in the Circle, at least for tonight." She paused for a moment, then grimaced, "Never thought I'd ever willingly return to such a prison," she said wryly.

Anders shook his head at her, "I can't believe I did, either. The strange things I do for you, Commander…" he grinned and she chuckled, glad to see him look a bit less morose and more like the Anders she knew.

"I will return in the morning to make plans for your trip to the Keep," Tori said as she turned away, "Help yourselves to food and drink, and have Carver put it on my tab. Anything you like, and I mean it – I've heard tales of the appetites of expecting mothers." She winked and Anders laughed, smiling at Hawke as she spoke to her brother. He was truly in love, it was a heart-warming sight.

But as Toriana left The Hanged Man, her smile faded away; the time for joy and beauty was passed.

She had a Joining to initiate.

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><p><strong>Yesss, Anders-Hawke babies are the bessst! I took some liberty with that idea, since I don't know if it's technically cannonically possible at all for Grey Wardens to have babies (well, aside from black magic Morrigan babies...) But I love the idea of Anders holding a little baby in his arms with that warm, loving, but terrified look on his face that new fathers often have :) The spinoff story I'm gonna write about Anders &amp; Hawke will go more into detail about daddy Anders ;)<strong>

**Until I update again, may I suggest the wonderful writing of Thessali, SageQueen, and xxsewnlipsxx? Their works are amazing, just amazing, and I recommend them to you all to keep you entertained until my next chapter :)  
><strong>


	19. Join Us

The preparations had taken the rest of the daylight, and by the time Tori had the Joining blood ready the sun had set. When she entered the room, Cullen was sleeping. Now the illusion of peaceful rest was gone, it was clear he was ill. The veins on his face had become more prominent, his lips were purplish-blue, and his skin was a deathly gray.

Toriana frowned as she sat on the bed next to him. She only hoped it wasn't too late.

"Cullen," she murmured softly, putting a hand on his shoulder to wake him. He groaned and opened his eyes, and she could see they had begun to cloud over. Panic bubbled just below her veneer of calm and she swallowed so she could speak.

"You've been tainted by the darkspawn," she said without preamble. His eyes widened and she didn't remove her hand from his shoulder in order to offer some measure of support. "There's only one way to stop you from becoming a ghoul or dying. You need to undergo the Joining ritual to become a Grey Warden."

Cullen's whole body stiffened and his breathing was shallow as his eyes darted to Tori with what looked like suspicion. "Blood magic?" he rasped, the fear evident in his face.

Toriana shook her head quickly, "No! Never! I would never… It's an ancient magic, all you must do is drink this." She felt a little bad lying to him, for she was suspicious herself of the ritual being blood magic. But she wasn't going to voice her suspicions now, when he could still refuse the ritual and die.

Cullen glared at the chalice in her hand, a plain silver goblet. It was the same one that had been used in her Joining that she had recovered from Ostagar's ruins, and the same she had used for every Joining she had initiated since then. It was special to her, and had more significance than even her staff, which had been lost to the Deep Roads when they fled.

"What will happen to me?" he asked breathlessly, keeping his eyes on the chalice.

Toriana grimaced, "I cannot tell you everything yet. You will become one of us. There are certain benefits, as well as… sacrifices." She winced at how menacing that sounded, but it had to be said; he couldn't be allowed to think it was a costless choice to undergo the Joining. "You will have to leave your old life behind and join us at Vigil's Keep. All of your old allegiances must be forsaken for the Wardens."

Cullen was silent a long time, staring at the chalice. Finally, he looked at Toriana, "If it is the only way."

Toriana nodded, "It is, save for death." She paused for a moment, knowing there was one more thing to tell him. After a deep breath she continued, "It is not without risks. Some do not survive the Joining. It's the price we must pay."

He grimaced, "Imminent death versus possible death or lifetime servitude to your order. You never gave easy choices, Toriana."

She couldn't help the wry smile that twisted her lips, "What can I say? I'm a difficult woman, Cullen."

His smile was weak, but his expression held a hint of humor, "There's no way I can respond to that that won't offend you," he joked.

Toriana chuckled, then cut off her laughter and patted his shoulder, "Enough jokes," she said softly. "You must make your final decision now. Will you join the Grey Wardens?"

Cullen nodded once, and Toriana helped him sit up with a hand behind his shoulders. "There are a few words that are spoken at every Joining, a sort of… tradition." She closed her eyes and she could see Alistair as he had been at her Joining, reciting the same words.

"Join us, brothers and sisters. Join us in the shadows where we stand vigilant. Join us as we carry the duty that cannot be forsworn. And should you perish, know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten, and that one day we shall join you."

When she opened her eyes, they were wet and she had to blink away tears in annoyance as she brought the cup to his lips.

"From this day forward, Cullen, you are a Grey Warden."


	20. Admiration

After the ogre attack, he remembered nothing.

Cullen's dreams were dark. He dreamed of blood and whispers in the dark, a fire in his veins and a fog in his mind. When he awoke, Toriana was there, and he feared he was still asleep and his dreams of torture at the hands of the blood mages had returned.

But when she smiled at him, he knew it was real. There were her crooked teeth, the slight tilt of her lips to the right. He looked down at his hand where she held it and wondered at how rough it felt even compared to his, how unlike other women's hands hers were.

She spoke with red cheeks, and he couldn't keep the smile from his face. She had come to comfort him? The thought warmed his heart, and he squeezed her hand as best he could with the horrible weakness in his body. She came to comfort him, and she had refused to leave him behind in the Deep Roads when he had been so injured. She didn't hate him at all; in fact, in his physically and mentally weakened state he even ventured to hope that perhaps she was fond of him, at least a little. Not so fond as he was of her, of course – especially at this very moment; if he had had the strength, he likely would have had the foolish courage to press a kiss to her hand. He would have done it, and would have wished her hand was her lips.

Cullen hardly noticed as Anders and Hawke entered. The thought crossed his mind that Toriana and Hawke were likely related – Hawke was a scion of the Amell family, no? He could spot the similarities in the way they smirked, the way they stood with their right foot slightly forward, and in their vicious tempers. They certainly were two women not to be trifled with.

The entire time they spoke, Cullen kept his eyes on Toriana. He was surprised to hear she had known the murderer Anders before he had come to Kirkwall, just as surprised as he was to hear the apostate was a hero of Vigil's Keep _and_ a Grey Warden.

At the mention of this apparent nickname of Toriana's, Cullen wanted to smile but held himself in check with their company. So then the flower had meant enough to her to make it her nickname (or whatever it was they spoke of). Perhaps it was his illness, but he couldn't help but hope that it was yet another sign that he meant more to her than he had previously thought. She had never before looked so beautiful to him as she did now.

Cullen's attention drifted for a bit, but their laughter brought him back. Toriana's laughter was like music to him, and he almost felt sad when she stopped. The mentioned of her past lover made him curious; she sounded very sad as she mentioned the man, despite her smile, and he could see the agony in her eyes. Was she still hurting from it, after all these years? What had the man done to make her eyes so dejected when she spoke of him? The thought made him both angry and resentful towards the nameless man. If Cullen had a woman like Toriana, he would treat her with all the love and respect she deserved (and she definitely deserved a lot), and he would certainly _never_ lose her.

As it was, Cullen had never had a woman like her. In fact, he had never had a lover at all, not in the romantic sense. He had gone to the Blooming Rose once, years ago, when he had first come to Kirkwall as a frantic and broken young man. He had been ashamed ever since that, not only had he had sex out of wedlock, but that it had been with a _whore_ of all people. The guilt and disgust he felt for his moment of weakness had kept him celibate ever since.

And he had never taken any woman as a lover because it seemed that every woman he was introduced to by Templar friends was not… not quite exactly the type of woman he wanted. Every time he spoke with a potential lover, he found himself thinking that they didn't have the strength or the sweetness or the intelligence or the beautiful eyes of a certain mage… Most of the time it was not a conscious thought, it merely manifested itself as a disinterest. In fact, he turned down the offers of his friends to introduce him to women so many times that rumors began to circulate that he had a secret lover, that he was homosexual, or that he was so stuck-up that he thought no woman good enough for him.

Rumors in Kirkwall were like cockroaches; they multiplied faster than you could keep count, and each one was uglier than the next.

When Anders finished his healing, Cullen felt a wave of fatigue cover him like a blanket, making his eyes droop uncontrollably. As the apostate and Champion shared a tender moment, Cullen didn't miss the flash of pain in Toriana's eyes as she watched them. Since she hadn't sound the least bit interested in Anders earlier, Cullen wondered. Was she thinking of her nameless ex-lover, even now? As she let go of his hand and made to leave, he felt nothing but sadness. Not for himself, but for the misery he could see in her face.

When her morose brown eyes met his, he wondered how she managed to act so happy when it was clear she was in so much pain.

He only hoped that one day she would be truly happy.

. . . . .

Cullen's dreams were even worse this time. He could feel the bloody darkness seeping inside of him, tugging at his flesh and at his soul. He fought it, struggled, but he was too weak and time stretched forever, he moved through forever. Finally he was defeated, there was a piercing agony, and then he _was_ the darkness.

When he awoke this time, his mind was foggy. Toriana took no time at all giving him the bad news of his taint, and her mention of some 'ritual' set off alarms in his mind. He thought of the blood mages' rituals and felt terror clawing at him, making his hands itch for his sword and shield.

The talk of forsaking old allegiances frightened him. He had been with the Chantry ever since he could remember – the lay sisters had told him he was an orphan – and he had been part of the Templar Order since he had started his training at ten years old. The thought of leaving, of breaking his oath after 21 years of loyalty did not appeal to him, but what use could his death be to the Chantry if he refused the ritual?

He agreed to continue with the Joining.

Toriana hardly gave him time to see what was in the goblet before it was pouring into his mouth. It tasted horrible and strangely metallic, and as soon as he swallowed there was a fire throughout his body. Agony roared through him, and he looked down and saw with horror that what he had drank looked horribly like blood. It _was_ blood. But she had said it was not blood magic… Why would Toriana lie to him? Why would she poison him?

The pain became so intense he only saw white, and he wondered if this was death was like and if he was going to be one of the Wardens who died in the Joining. Then he could see again, but all he saw were darkspawn, all he heard was a sickeningly sweet whisper, is if from through the earth itself, and he felt a strange pull to it.

And then all was black.

. . . . .

When Cullen awoke, Toriana was still on the bed beside him, as if hardly any time had passed. She saw him open his eyes and smiled with what was obviously relief. He wanted to ask her why she had lied to him, why she did blood magic, but found he was too weak to do more than make a soft groaning noise.

Toriana surprised him by running a hand over his hair, and though he felt betrayed by her, he could not help but relish in the touch. "The Joining is a difficult thing, you should get some sleep to recover your strength."

She pulled away and stood to go to her bed, and as she curled her limber body under her blanket with the stiffness her injury warranted, she looked at him, "You will have nightmares," she murmured softly, a hint of regret in her tone, "All Wardens do. At least it is not a Blight – dreams during the Blight are even worse than they are now."

As she closed her eyes, Cullen watched her. With the moonlight playing in her long black hair, she looked like some sort of lunar goddess. He found himself entranced by the sight, by the way her high cheekbones cast strange shadows upon her cheeks, and the way the silvery light made her eyelashes glitter as if filled with gems.

It seemed no matter how much time had passed since he had been a young man with a crush, no matter how unlikely a romance between them, he could not stop himself from admiring her, from wanting her.

Cullen fell asleep wondering if her lips would taste any different after all these years.

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><p><strong>Gahh, Cullen, why are you so sad and adorable?<strong>

**Don't forget to leave a comment if you think the story deserves it! And thank you to everyone who has reviewed so far, I really appreciate it! :)  
><strong>


	21. Making Arrangements

Toriana awoke early feeling greatly restored from her rest, and was able to stand with only some pain. She tested her magic as she pulled a shirt over her head and wasn't surprised to discover she still couldn't reach it, though it was so close she could almost _taste_ it. She ran her fingers through her hair to tidy it as best she could with no brush; she was starting to feel rather disgusting, having not bathed since she was at Vigil's Keep. Life on the road was not a glorious or cleanly one.

She left the room without disturbing Cullen, who was sleeping soundly, and asked a servant where she could bathe in private. As she sank into the metal tub the servants had filled with hot water, she sighed happily. It was nice to relax and feel the heat loosen the knots in her muscles; it had been a long time since she'd had the luxury of a long bath. At the Keep, she was always in a hurry for some reason or another. Now, after scrubbing herself clean, she laid her head against the rim of the tub and closed her eyes with another pleased sigh.

Toriana didn't remember falling into dreamless sleep, but when she awoke with a start she found the water was awfully cold and the wound in her side had opened up and started bleeding pink into the dirty water. She sighed and got out of the tub, drying and dressing as quickly as she could. She tied her shirt up so it would not bother her injury and left in search of new bandages.

When she showed up at The Hanged Man an hour later, her wound was still bleeding despite its dressings, and she was starting to get worried. Anders was in the darkest corner talking quietly to Hawke, who had a tray of pickles and chocolate cake before her.

Toriana dropped herself into a chair across the table from them and lifted an eyebrow at the two. "All you need now is black cloaks with deep hoods and some mercenary bodyguards and you'll ace the shady look," she teased in a wry voice.

Hawke grinned at her, though her eyes looked tired, as she popped a pickle in her mouth followed by a whole piece of cake. Anders grimaced at the two of them, glancing at his happily chewing lover, "How can you stand to eat that?" When Hawke merely shrugged and proceeded to stick a pickle in the middle of another cake piece, he turned to Tori with a lower voice. "We're staying out of the way; I'm still a wanted man, Grey Warden protection or not."

Toriana shrugged, "I've learned over the years that the best place to hide is usually in plain sight. Slinking around only draws attention." When Anders scowled at her, clearly not in a good mood, she put her hands up defensively, "As you wish. Anyways, I came to talk with the two of you, but first…"

She lifted her shirt just enough to reveal her bloodied bandages. Anders frowned and glanced about the room to be sure no one was watching before standing and gesturing for Toriana to follow him. Hawke waved him away when he asked if she was coming, pointing to her food as she stuffed another slice of cake in her mouth rather ungracefully.

In their room – Toriana's old room – Anders frowned at her wound as she sat on the bed. "How long has it been bleeding like that?"

As Tori unwrapped her bandages, she grimaced, "Since I took a bath this morning. It was a poisoned arrow that did this; I'm guessing the poison wasn't fully removed."

Anders sighed wearily and rubbed his eyes. He looked even worse than he did yesterday, and she couldn't help but wonder if something had happened to him and his lover since Tori had left – they both looked at the end of their rope, though Hawke was excellent at acting like nothing was wrong. "Lay down," he said, his hands already starting to get that faint blue glow of healing magic, "I'll see what I can do."

She obeyed, wincing at the pain as the skin around her injury stretched when she laid back. The healing only took a few minutes, and once he'd finished Anders frowned down at her, the witty joviality that she had liked so much in his demeanor years ago now completely gone.

"That's the best I can do right now, I'm afraid. My strength hasn't exactly been in top form as of late, and healing Templars always seems to take more of it." The look he gave her was almost accusing, and Toriana took a deep breath.

"Thank you for healing him, Anders, truly. I'll look after the two of you, I swear it; your efforts weren't for nothing." Her reassurance didn't seem to help much, but her old friend still held out a hand to help her up. As they left the room, Toriana raised an eyebrow at him, her tone half-joking, "You know, for an expecting father you sure seem rather melancholy."

Anders looked so completely alien to her when he gave her a sharp, aggressive look that she frowned and pulled away, grabbing his arm to stop him from going down the stairs. After casting a look around to make sure there were not unwanted listeners, she stepped closer and lowered her voice. "What's happened to you?" she asked him, eyes somber and concerned, "You're so different than I remember."

His eyes looked haunted as he stared at her silently for a moment before he replied, "I've changed. I'm not the man I used to be." Toriana wanted to question him, to ask why his voice was so dark and regretful, but she could sense the distance between them – they were no longer the close friends they had once been – and thought better of it. Perhaps he would tell her one day, once she regained his trust and confidences. Until then…

Tori nodded once, and without another word needed to be spoken they returned to Hawke, who had finished her odd meal and was now joined by her brother and Moiraine. Carver looked both frustrated and embarrassed with a face that was red as he glared at his sister. Hawke looked rather like a cat who was toying with a mouse, a sly grin on her face and an almost wicked glint in her eye. Moiraine's dark green eyes shifted between the two, her expression clearly saying she was confused, but just starting to catch on to whatever Hawke and her brother were talking about, and judging by the pink rising in her cheeks, Carver wasn't the only one embarrassed by it.

When the two apostates took their seats at the table, Carver cast an unreadable glance at Moiraine and stood, muttering something about fresh air before he disappeared from the table. Moiraine began fiddling with a fork, avoiding anyone else's eyes, until Toriana sat next to her. "Oh, Commander, you must be hungry; would you like me to get you some food?"

The pleading look in the young woman's eyes made her nod in spite of the fact she didn't like being served, especially by another Warden. As the redhead practically scurried from the table, Toriana turned to Anders and Hawke. "I can get a place on the next boat to Amaranthine secured for you, and give you some gold to rent a horse and wagon to Vigil's Keep so Hawke doesn't have to walk."

Hawke grunted, giving Tori an apprehensive look, "I'm pregnant, not handicapped. I can walk just fine."

Toriana grinned at the other woman, feeling pride well up in her that she was related to her; she seemed like a tough, respectable person. "Alright, no wagon then."

Anders interjected, frowning at the two of them, "Wait, maybe a wagon is a good idea; it's a good distance to Vigil's Keep from the docks." Tori couldn't discern the look Hawke gave him with raised eyebrows, but Anders was nothing if not thick-headed, and he frowned back at her, "Please, Marian."

Apparently he still knew how to do his big brown puppy-eyed look, and apparently it worked on Hawke, because after a moment she sighed and threw her hands up, "Fine, we'll get the bloody wagon! But I expect you to make it up to me." The two shared another look, this one more heated than the others, and Tori shifted in her seat, a little embarrassed by the intimacy of their gaze.

Toriana cleared her throat and pulled out a small pouch that clinked with gold, sliding it across the table to them. Hawke took it and stashed it away somewhere in her unique armor, and Moiraine returned to the table with a plate of pot roast and vegetables, which Tori tore into with a ravenous hunger she hadn't previously noticed.

After the redhead said something about wanting to go shopping and left, the rebel mage, the Champion, and the Warden-Commander fell into easy conversation as Tori ate her food. Hawke told her stories of her days in Kirkwall before the incident with the Chantry, with Anders pitching in now and then. The woman spoke fondly of her former companions, though Anders often had negative things to say about them; Hawke ignored his comments as if she had heard them plenty of times before and had nothing more to say to him.

Tori was surprised to learn that they had worked with the pirate Isabela, who she had met herself in Denerim, during the Blight. She was even more surprised by the fact that they had traveled with a former Tevinter slave with lyrium tattoos – she had never before heard of such a thing and asked many questions as to the nature of it.

When Hawke spoke of the captain of the guard in Kirkwall, Toriana cut in. "Ah, then you would be able to contact her to have her give a reward to one of her guards who helped me find an entrance to the Deep Roads."

Hawke nodded, "Of course, what was the name of the guard?" Toriana told her, and she and Anders chuckled. At the Warden-Commander's bemused look, Hawke grinned, "That would be Aveline's husband. Figures he'd be the one to help you out. I can get the reward to him; I'm sure he'll be pleasantly surprised."

Tori handed her a couple of sovereigns, and their conversation continued amicably. Once she finished her third plate of food they left the Hanged Man – Anders and Hawke donning deep-hooded cloaks to hide their faces – and made their way to the docks. Finding a ship to take them to Amaranthine didn't take long, thanks to Tori's charm and the few silvers she passed to the right people.

The ship was due to leave in a few hours, so Toriana bid the couple farewell and safe travels, and was startled when Hawke moved forward and wrapped her in a hug. "Thank you," she whispered in Tori's ear before pulling away with a smile that made the tiredness on her face all but disappear. As she headed back towards the Gallows, even knowing she would see them again in a few months when she returned to Vigil's Keep, she could not help but already miss her cousin. Her family.

Now, she was off to her room. She was tired from the healing, and she had a new Warden to check up on.


	22. The Price of the Grey

**Author's Note:** Here's the second part of my three-chapter update tonight (well, _morning_ for me, hehe). My note from last chapter still stands for this one in regards to proofreading... I swear I'll pick up on my proofreading slack as soon as I get back to regular internet access!

Until then, thank you for reading my drabble, and thank you all for reviewing! Much love from Germany - Sie alles sind wunderbar! :)

* * *

><p>On the way back to the Gallows, she wound her way through the merchant's quarter of the area the locals called Hightown, browsing through the different wares the vendors offered. She kept an eye out for a staff, but it seemed anything related to mages in Kirkwall had disappeared; understandable considering the obvious ire held by the general populace towards magic users and anyone with anything related to magic.<p>

Sighing, she continued on to the Gallows, irritated that she would not have a staff for the eradication of the darkspawn from the Deep Roads under Kirkwall. That would make the task a bit more difficult, since Tori was so used to using magic with a staff to focus it – it was harder for her, now, to go back to using unfocused magic. It had been a long time since she had been an apprentice in the Circle, with only her hands and her skill for casting magic. And the staff served well to deflect sword blows and incoming arrows. Now she would likely have to buy a sword of some sort for basic protection, and she didn't fancy having to learn the basics of swordplay.

When she arrived at the entrance to the Templar Hall – which was where the Mages' Circle was housed, unfortunately – Pater was there waiting for her. "Our new recruit was asking for you, as was the Knight-Captain, who I suppose is the Knight-Commander now."

Toriana nodded and sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose where she could feel another headache forming. "And I'll bet I'm correct in guessing that they won't let me have a little nap before I attend to them, hm?" When Pater gave her a sympathetic smile and put a hand on her shoulder as they started walking, she shook her head, "I thought so. And I've had no luck in finding a new staff; Kirkwall _really_ doesn't like my kind at the moment."

Pater shrugged, "Their hatred is misguided, but understandable considering what happened to the uprising and the Chantry. They simply have yet to learn that not _all_ mages are to blame for that."

The Warden-Commander grimaced, "I know first-hand that people are not quick to let go of old prejudices. It will likely take years before mages are allowed back in the city without being attacked, if they are ever allowed back at all."

The older man frowned, and after a pause he spoke again, "Well at any rate, you can order a new staff from Kinloch Hold when we get back to the Keep."

"And until then, I'll need a sword…" Toriana gave him an inquiring look and he nodded, waving a hand.

"I'll take care of it." Pater paused and drew a folded parchment out of his armor, "Before I forget, Commander, your elf friend told me to give this to you before he left this morning." He handed the letter to her, and she frowned before she took it and tucked it away in a pocket to read later. Zevran leaving meant the task of destroying the darkspawn would be much harder, with one less skilled fighter to aid them. She would have to look harder and increase her price for mercenaries, then. _Damn._

The two friends walked in silence for a while, down the halls lined with rooms mostly empty, where mages had once been locked up. Once they reached Tori and Cullen's room, the black-haired woman stopped and turned to Pater, "It's probably best I speak to him alone." When the man nodded understandably, she continued, "If you could bring the new Knight-Commander here when he has a moment to spare, that would be much appreciated." With Pater, she rarely gave orders, she merely made requests that he listened to – theirs was a mutually respectful friendship, regardless of rank.

He nodded once and strode away, and Toriana took a deep breath and turned to face the door to her room. Time to face yet another spiteful Warden recruit, no doubt. That Cullen would be unhappy about being made a Warden was something she expected, but she had no desire to face an accusing tone of voice and apprehensive looks, especially from someone whose friendship she had so recently mended.

When she opened the door, she found Cullen sitting up in his bed with a loose shirt covering his chest and his blanket draped over his legs. He put down the book he had been holding under the waning sunlight from the window behind him and looked at her, his face unreadable.

Toriana gave him a small, weak smile, "It's good to see you away from death's clutches, for once," she joked, though her voice lacked the lightness to turn it into a jest, causing it to fall flat and sound more like a somber declaration than anything. She winced at that, but continued on to sit on her bed, finally free of the pain in her side. When he didn't say anything, she spoke again, "How are you feeling?"

Cullen let out a long breath and his eyes darkened, "Tired. Weak. But not dead, at least. I owe you my thanks." His voice was stronger than the day before, but though the shadows under his eyes had lightened considerably, they were still there and Tori had a feeling it was from the dreams of the darkspawn. She remembered only too well her first nights as a Warden, haunted by the monsters in her sleep.

He was staring at her without a word, his eyes strangely intent, and Toriana cleared her throat uncomfortably, "What is that you're reading?" she asked, trying to feign more interest than she actually felt in a desperate attempt to fill the silence.

Cullen glanced down at the book in his hands, "_The Grey_ by Paedric Westfeld." He paused for a moment, "I was trying to learn more about the Wardens; for all the stories and rumors I've heard, I find I know next to nothing about them."

Toriana nodded, "And that book likely won't help you. We keep our secrets well-guarded. Most people would not understand the things we must do to stop the Blight, they would not understand the sacrifices and the choices we must make." Her mouth drew into a stiff line and she looked at the wall; there were many things that being a Warden meant, and she had not learned most of them until _after_ her Joining. It was almost cruel, to be kept in the dark like that, but she understood now why the Wardens did so – very few would willingly join the Wardens if they knew the consequences, and more likely the order would be destroyed by the people if they knew.

As she expected, Cullen gave her a dark, guarded look, "Such as using blood magic for the Joining?" His voice was flat, devoid of any recognizable emotion, and that sent a chill down her spine far worse than if he had spoken in anger.

She grimaced, still avoiding his eyes, "I do not know if it is truly blood magic…" His eyes flashed and he looked even more incensed, and she felt irritation building within her, that he would judge her brothers and sisters. "And even if it is, it's only for the Joining, and in any case the Wardens will do everything they must if it means stopping the darkspawn. The Order does not take positions on things like politics, blood magic, mages and Templars, because they have no bearing on the Blight."

Cullen let out a mirthless laugh, "So you're only doing what you _must_? I've heard many maleficar who would claim the same defense of their actions."

Toriana glared at him, knowing her face was going red with anger and her temper was getting out of control, but she didn't stop herself. "Do not compare me, or my Wardens, to blood mages!" Her voice was harsh and bitter, "You do not understand what you speak of; you do not understand everything the Wardens must give to protect Thedas, what_ I_ had to give!" She cut off her rant and turned her burning gaze back to the wall, fighting back the urge to scream at him. She could feel furious tears burning in her eyes and she blinked them away in disgust.

The ex-Templar stared at her with that unreadable expression once more, and she took a deep breath, getting ready to snap at him again, when he spoke. "What _did_ you have to give?"

She froze, and she could see in her mind's eye Riordan telling her and Alistair that one of them had to die, could hear Alistair's burning protest when she immediately offered herself as the sacrifice. She could see Morrigan's catty eyes as she said, '_There is a way you do not have to die_', and again as she looked at Alistair with a sickening smirk as she told him, '_You will not hate this quite so much as you believe_.' She saw Anora at the royal wedding, holding the hand of the man Tori loved, _kissing_ him. Alistair's face swam through her mind with that pained expression as he told her '_I'm so sorry, __Tori, but this is how it has to be…_'

Toriana turned to Cullen with a snarl on her face to hide the pain that was likely in her eyes, using anger as a shield to bury her hurt, "That is none of your business!" He looked taken aback as she schooled her features into a practiced calm yet again, though now her heart ached horribly, and she attempted to regain her image of a solid, hardened Warden-Commander.

She cleared her throat, avoiding his eyes again, "The Wardens are guardians, we exist only to stop the Archdemon and defeat the Blight. Whatever price we must pay is worth the safety of Thedas." It was a practiced line, once she had repeated to herself countless times as she lay alone in her bed aching for a lost love, for dead companions and broken friendships, for a time when her life had consisted of one simple tower and nothing else, where her most common fear was earning her mentor's disappointed look, or improperly casting a spell and being reprimanded.

So many times she had wished to escape where she was in life – trapped in the Tower, on the run for her life as a recently-made Warden, as the new Warden-Commander watching the man she loved marry another woman, as the Commander trapped by her duties in Vigil's Keep when all she ever wanted was freedom – and now as she looked back she longed to return to those times she had so readily wished to leave behind. It seemed that no matter where she was in her life, she was unhappy with it, except for that brief time she had had Alistair at her side as a faithful lover; _that_ seemed to be the only time she had not wanted to escape from, and cruelly was the time that was the shortest. Would she never be able to simply be content with her life again?

She finished the lines she had said so many times before, "What I had to give up is of no consequence."

Now as she said those words, as it often did as she told herself such, her voice sounded hollow in her own ears.

The look Cullen leveled her with was almost pitying, and she felt irritated again. She didn't want his _pity_, she merely wanted his understanding of what being a Grey Warden meant. She didn't know why she felt she needed so badly for him to excuse the things she had done in the name of the Wardens, but she longed for it nonetheless.

"I'm sorry."

His words startled her, and she found she had bitter tears in her eyes that she had to fight back before she could respond. "Don't be," she muttered blandly, staring at the floor between their beds as her previous anger completely left her, "If I had not become a Warden I would be dead or locked away in Aeonar, likely to die, and it is not such a bad fate, this."

Cullen was silent a moment before his tentative voice sounded in her ears, as if worried she might grow angry at his next question, "How _did_ you become a Warden? I heard rumors in the Tower, but…" he trailed off awkwardly, and she knew what he wasn't saying. _You didn't want to believe them, to believe that I helped a blood mage escape_. She was sure there were even more rumors than that, rumors that – while she was curious to know – she had no desire to hear the extent of.

Toriana shrugged nonchalantly, more calmly than she felt on the inside, and glanced at him with dark eyes, "It's a bit of a long story. I can tell you if you truly wish, but perhaps now is not the best time, your Captain is coming to speak with us soon."

The man's amber eyes narrowed as he stared down at the book in his lap, his brow furrowing, "He'll be the new Commander now, won't he?" he asked in a voice that clearly said he knew the answer. He looked conflicted, worried, and a bit resentful.

She nodded, making her voice into the gentle but firm one she reserved for new Wardens struggling with their new lives, "Yes. I was not lying when I said you'd have to give up your old life. You're a Grey Warden; the Templars are no longer your order. We are your family, now." She tried to give him a supportive smile, but he still looked unhappy.

"I suppose Kenneth is as good a man as any for the position, if a bit inexperienced," he said, his voice sounding much more accepting of the proceedings than he looked. He looked at Toriana with an almost pained gaze, and his next words startled her in their nearness, as if they were trusting friends, "Is it always this difficult? To leave your life behind, I mean."

Those eyes, the color of tree sap and fine ale, begged her for reassurance, and at this moment she wanted nothing more than to give it to him, but she was not sure what answer he wanted. She spoke slowly, testing her words to see his reaction, "It is difficult for most of us, yes… And I would be lying if I said you'll never want to return to your old life," he grimaced, and she continued hurriedly, "But life as a Warden is not so terrible; we _are_ a family, strange as we might seem, and you'll get used to it in your own time. Soon you won't think on your old life except as a rare occurrence, and you'll be happy." _Hopefully._

It felt strange to speak comforts to a man that was two years older than she, and especially to one who only minutes earlier had accused her of blood magic, but when his face calmed and his eyes softened, she didn't regret it one bit.

Before they could speak more, there was a knock at the door, to which Toriana responded with a "Come in," and Pater entered with a young man behind him. The man – Kenneth, she supposed, if the Templar armor was any indication – looked to be no older than twenty-five, with a shock of light blonde hair and kind brown eyes.

Pater nodded to her as he closed the door, "This is the new Knight-Commander, Kenneth Honneley."

As the older Grey Warden took his position beside the door, Kenneth blurted out in an anxious voice, "So it's true, Commander? You're leaving for the Grey Wardens?" He glanced at Toriana with a wary look before he returned his gaze to Cullen. He had heard that the Warden-Commander of Ferelden was a mage, and the presence of such a powerful apostate made him nervous.

Cullen nodded, "Yes, you're the Commander, now." His voice had returned to that authoritative tone that he had used when he was Knight-Commander, though it had a hint of softness in it. When the young man opened his mouth to protest, Cullen held a hand up to stop him, "You'll do just fine, Knight-Commander, I know I've trained you well."

When Kenneth gave the man in the bed a surprised, but pleased, look, Toriana cut in, "And you'll have Cullen in the city for a while yet to give you any advice you may need while my men and I take care of the darkspawn. But once we leave Kirkwall, you're on your own, Knight-Commander."

Kenneth's face paled at her words, delivered with a hint of a warning, and swallowed nervously. She wanted to raise a skeptical eyebrow at his behavior, but while she thought it amusing to see a Templar squirm she was not a cruel person, and he was obviously truly worried. Instead, she gave him an encouraging smile, "May the Maker smile upon your new position, Knight-Commander Honneley."

That seemed to help the poor man bit, and he gave her an uneasy smile in return, "My thanks, Warden-Commander."

Now Toriana rubbed her hands together, "Now if you don't mind, I would like to get a bit of rest, as I'm sure my new recruit would as well. We may speak more tomorrow before I leave for the Deep Roads, Knight-Commander." She nodded to him once and, without another glance, turned away to pull Zevran's letter from her pocket. The young man mumbled out a farewell, which Cullen responded to amicably, and he and Pater left the room.

She ignored Cullen as she unfolded the assassin's letter to read it, her eyes darting over his elegant, and yet somehow brutal, script.

_My dear Warden,_

_I'm afraid I must leave you, as I have received word of the whereabouts of the woman I spoke of to you before. I could not wait until you awoke to say goodbye, as I have to leave immediately if I am to find her before she changes locations again, I'm sure you will understand._

_I wish you luck in your endeavors in Kirkwall, and beyond it as well. May we meet again someday soon._

_Your favorite sexy elf,_

_Zevran_

And at the bottom, as if added as a teasing afterthought, he had scrawled, '_And next time I see you I fully expect to hear all the steamy details about this rather delicious-looking Templar of yours._'

Toriana scowled at that, glancing over at Cullen to find he was watching her, and folded the letter back up to place it beneath her pillow, cheeks growing red with embarrassment and irritation. Zevran always loved to make her feel like an awkward, embarrassed teenager, especially when it came to her love life. Still, despite the fact that now she desperately wanted to avoid looking at or talking to the man sharing the room with her, she couldn't help but feel a rush of surprised amusement towards the elf. He truly was smitten with this woman if he went running after her so quickly, and it was rather endearing to think of him as a lovesick puppy. Which, of course, left her in a bit of a predicament with too few men to take out the darkspawn.

She sighed and ran a hand down her face as she buried her legs under her blanket, and Cullen's voice almost made her jump, "Is something wrong?"

Toriana grimaced, looking at him with brows furrowed, "Zevran – the elf that helped us – left to chase after some girl."

When Cullen's eyes widened and he stared at her with a surprised and almost scandalized gaze, she gave him a bemused look, unsure what brought about his reaction. "I-I'm sorry, I didn't realize you two were…" he trailed off with an awkward cough, and avoided looking her in the face.

Toriana stared at him wordlessly for a moment, shocked at what he was insinuating, before she snorted and laughed, "You mean you think we're lovers? Hardly," she chuckled at that, shaking her head with a wry grin. It _was_ true that they weren't any longer; in fact they had _never_ actually been _lovers_, per se… She just didn't feel like explaining their complicated relationship to someone who seemed so offended at the thought of her being with him. _Probably because he's an elf_, she couldn't help but think bitterly. Racism was not an uncommon thing in Thedas, even amongst people that were good in all other ways. "We're friends. I'm merely worried about venturing back into the Deep Roads with one less skilled fighter."

Cullen seemed strangely happy, a relieved smile on his face as he replied to her, "You can always hire mercenaries. Maker knows we've got enough of them in Kirkwall."

She snorted again, "Except it seems they're all skittish about joining Grey Wardens in the Deep Roads." She shrugged, "I'm sure I'll figure _something_ out."

He gave her a look that made her a bit uncomfortable in its warmth, "I'm sure you will."

Toriana shifted in her bed, sliding down to lay on the hard mattress, "Yes, well, it will have to wait until tomorrow at any rate, I'm exhausted. Sleep well." And with that abrupt goodnight, she turned away from him and closed her eyes.

_Some steamy details Zevran will get_, she thought blandly, _'Oh Zevran, we talked awkwardly for a bit before we went to sleep in separate beds.' How kinky._ She almost snorted once again at that, but stopped herself, realizing she probably sounded as if she was raised by pigs at the rate she kept snorting.

In the bed beside hers, she could hear Cullen's sigh and the rustling of his blanket as he settled in to sleep.


	23. Pride and Pain

**Author's Note:** Aaand here's the last chapter for today! My next update will likely be within a week as we will be arriving at my aunt & uncle's house in a couple of days, so keep an eye out for alerts!

It's a rather long chapter, and I tried to go back and shorten it a bit and take out my rambling, but I just couldn't find enough to take out to make it more compact... So, apologies for the long-ish chapter, I hope it's not too boring ;)

Also, I tried a new writing tactic (mostly towards the end of the chapter) that I've been wanting to attempt for a while here: writing as a true third-person omniscient within each chapter. Meaning, instead of writing out the thoughts and such of Toriana in most chapters, and then having the occasional chapter from Cullen's POV, I'm trying to attempt to put both sides in one chapter. I've seen it done in lots of other writing, and I think if I can pull it off it will help make things less choppy and disjointed, and more like one smoothly flowing piece of writing. Let me know if you like it or not!

**UPDATE:** So I found a song that I thought went well with the last section of this chapter (after she wakes up). It's called _Sleep_ by Poets of the Fall, I'll put a link to the YouTube video in my profile for anyone who's interested in listening to it along with this chapter (or just to listen to a good song that goes well with the theme of Tori and Cullen and nightmares) ;)_  
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><p><em>She was running, running as fast as she could through the dark trees that seemed to stretch like talons above her head, visible against the dark sky only because of the sliver of a moon casting its eerie glow through the barren branches. She ran so hard that a sharp pain was in her side and her breaths came out in ragged gasps, but still it wasn't fast enough.<em>

_The monsters behind her shrieked in their hideous glee, pursuing her tirelessly across the hard ground. She could feel panic making her let out whimpers of terror even as she panted, and that only seemed to spur the darkspawn on more, as if her fear was a delicious thing for them, an encouragement. Visions in her mind of nameless horrors endured at the hands of darkspawn made her want to scream, to cry; she would give _anything_ to never experience that again._

_She knew she couldn't run forever. She knew this, and so when the noises behind her suddenly ceased, she let out a cry of relief as she fell to the ground, not caring that the hard-packed dirt scraped the skin from her palms. As she gasped for air on the ground, she sensed something approaching her… something very large. Scared that it was an ogre coming to finish her off, she clambered to her feet and pulled her magic to her so she would be ready to throw a fireball at it at the first chance she got. But the creature that broke through the trees was not an ogre._

_It was a Pride demon._

_She gasped as it neared her, its towering figure made almost comical by its tiny eyes. But there was nothing amusing about it; those __seven__ eyes were small and black and soulless, staring at her with an unnerving hunger as it walked up to her. When it opened its mouth to speak, she could see pointed fangs lining its mouth, and its voice was so deep it made her whole body vibrate and her head ache, feeling as if her eyes would pop out of her skull from the sheer force of the sound._

"_I have saved you from those creatures," it thrummed, and though it opened its mouth when it spoke, it did not move it to match the words it created, merely cracked its lips open in a frightening gape as its voice echoed from deep within it. The thing reached out a giant clawed hand to stroke her cheek. She was frozen in place by its voice, by its far too familiar, hideous form, and though she wanted to shriek and jerk away from it, she found she could not._

"_I have saved you, and perhaps there is one more thing I may do for you, if you but aid me."_

_She found her voice and glared at the creature, "I will never help you, _demon_," she hissed, clenching her hands to fists at her sides. After her last encounter with a demon in the Fade, she would not be so easily tricked._

_The thing stared at her with what she could guess was haughty disdain, and when it laughed she trembled and had to restrain herself from letting out a whimper. "You would resist me, mortal?" It chuckled at her, "I wonder if you would so easily forsake your friends."_

_Suddenly she was in the Deep Roads again, watching a battle between hordes of darkspawn and her companions. Pater, Moiraine, Carver, Mekel, and Zevran were standing in a tight circle facing outwards, fighting against the countless darkspawn that were threatening to overwhelm them. Pride was beside her, and they watched from a near distance as if they were ghosts, ignored completely by all before them._

_A cry went through the air as Moiraine was killed, and Toriana had to fight not to run to her as the light left her bright eyes. "It's not real," she whispered to herself, but even so she could feel tears in her eyes._

_Pride purred in her ear, the sound making her whole body ache with pain, "How could you know? In the Fade things that seem unreal are _made_ real. Do you doubt I could crush your pathetic friends if I so choose?"_

_Pater was down, his graying hair turning red with blood. She turned her head away, closing her eyes; she could not watch this, should not. "It's not real," she repeated, but the tears that burned their paths down her cheeks _felt_ real. Mekel and Carver soon followed Pater, and she had to fight off the sobs that were struggling to escape her chest._

_She made the mistake of opening her eyes, just for a moment, and she saw Zevran's head be sliced from his shoulders, his handsome face caught in a look of accusation as it tumbled across the stone floor to face her. This time she could not hold back her sobs, and she covered her face with her hands, "It's not real, leave me alone!" she screamed, but in her ears she sounded like a little child, pathetic and defenseless, mewling for its mother._

_Pride growled, "So you have no care for your friends, then," it said in a cruel voice that cut her like a knife, filling her with guilt and grief and shame. "What about your family, then? Are they so disposable?"_

_And then she was on a cliff overlooking the sea, and before her was a ship – the ship she had hired to take Anders and Hawke to Amaranthine – sinking. People were struggling in the water, but it was the heads of two people that drew her horrified eyes, and she could see them as clearly as if she were right beside them. Anders held Hawke close to him as he tried to swim through the relentless waves, but again and again the current pulled them mercilessly down under the surface before he broke through again. Hawke's beautiful blue eyes were wide with terror as she clung to her lover, coughing and sputtering as the saltwater invaded her mouth, her nose, her eyes._

_Toriana let out a moan of agony, "No…" she whispered, her eyes locked on the soaked head of her recently-discovered cousin. "No, she's pregnant, you can't…" Then, as if she suddenly remembered where she was, she shook her head and closed her eyes, "No! I'll not let it get to me, it's not real, damn you!" she growled, pressing her palms to her eyes._

_Pride's claws dug into her shoulder, "You do not think I can manipulate the tangible world, mortal? I have many mortal playthings that know how to set a well-placed fire on a ship, how to slide a dagger into a belly in the midst of a crowd."_

_It put images of Hawke in a sea of people, the hilt of a dagger sticking out of her swollen belly, in Tori's mind. Her face was drawn into a wail of agony and horror as she clasped at the weapon, crying for her baby. Anders was there beside her, more pain than she had ever before seen crumpling his face into an unrecognizable canvas of anguish. Hawke's blood stained the ground as she slumped in Anders' arms, blue eyes darkening into lifeless orbs. Then Anders was looking right at Toriana, his once warm brown eyes now black with hate, "You killed her," he accused, and she let out a noise of protest._

"_N-no, I didn't! It's the demon, it's what's doing this, I can't…" her voice weakened into a pained whisper and now she barely noticed the salty tears that stained her cheeks._

_Pride stood beside her, "I can protect them, if you only let me, little mage," it hummed in her ear, and now its voice didn't sound so horrible. It sounded sweet, so sweet…_

_Toriana jerked her head back so hard that it cracked, and she shook her head violently as she stepped away, "NO! Maker burn you, no!" she shouted, "You cannot do a thing, you cannot hurt them and you cannot have me! I walk in the light!"_

_Pride let out a roar of fury and she heard Anders' wail of agony and refused to look, refused to see what horrors were being acted out on her friend, because she knew that even though it was not real, it would still hurt her. There was a strange feeling of being weightless for a moment, then the noise stopped and when she opened her eyes, she was alone in an empty room._

_Toriana looked around herself, trying to discern where she was now, but the gray stone walls revealed nothing, and there were no windows and only one wooden door. With nothing else to do, she opened the door and stepped through into a room identical to the last, but this one wasn't quite empty._

"_Toriana," Cullen gasped from the floor, where he lay on his back with one hand over a gaping wound in his gut. She let out a strangled cry and dropped to his side, putting a hand over the injury in an attempt to staunch some of the blood flow, but it did not work. Still his life seeped out of him in crimson streams that bubbled up between her fingers, and when she tried to call her magic to her it was not there._

_Cullen's eyes were already beginning to get the glassed-over look of the dead, and he grasped her hand in his, the blood making their fingers slip until she squeezed so hard that she held him tight. "Toriana," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, "You need to leave this place, it's a terrible place, you have to get away, you have to save yourself."_

_Tori shook her head in protest, and tears flooded her vision as she wailed, "No! I can still save you!" But she knew she couldn't. She knew he was too far gone for her to heal him, even if she _could_ reach her magic._

_He shook his head with a small smile that made her chest feel like it was going to cave in with pain, "You always want to save others, dear Toriana, when will you learn to save yourself?" He stroked her cheek with his free hand, "I have to tell you, before…" he faltered, amber eyes darkening, before he picked up again._

"_I've wanted to tell you ever since I met you, and every day I refrained from showing you how I felt only made me feel it stronger." His breath was coming out in weak, ragged pants now, and his eyes took on a desperate look. "I don't care if you're a mage, I don't care that I'm a Templar, I can't…" he gasped for air, his eyes becoming unfocused in a way that made her heart pound in panic._

_She cried out his name, and that seemed to barely bring him back. His fingers were weak around hers, and when he spoke she had to lean forward to put her ear by his lips to hear him, "I love you," he whispered weakly, and she felt her heart drop, "I always have."_

_And then with a few last, shuddering breaths, those regal eyes glazed over completely, and Toriana was left clinging to his lifeless body, struck with shock and horror and panic and misery. He loved her? How could he love her? He barely _knew_ her! Why would he _tell_ her something like that before he died? Why? To torture her?_

_A clawing anguish ripped through her so badly that she couldn't stop the sobs that were wrenched from her lips. He loved her, and she had let him die. What had she done? What had she _done_? She pulled Cullen's lifeless body into her arms and pressed her face into his sun-kissed hair, her tears dampening his skin even as it cooled. She might have loved him back, if she had been given the chance, but now he was dead. Now she would never know._

"_I can bring him back, little mage."_

_The voice jolted her out of her cloud of misery, as if a bell had rung in her head, and she glared up at Pride before her. "You get away from me, demon!" she snarled, hating the thing for making her see these things, making her go through such torture. Yet even though she knew it was not real, she could not let go of Cullen's body, she could not stop the tears that made her eyes bloodshot and wild._

_Pride bared its fangs at her, "See what you have done to a man who loves you, selfish mage? If you had but called me I might have saved him before this, and spared him the agony of dying. You think of no one but yourself."_

_The contempt in its voice made her bristle with fury, pulling Cullen's body closer to her chest. "You spout lies! Be gone before I _make_ you go!" her voice was beginning to grow shrill as her throat constricted with tears._

_The demon looked down at the dead ex-Templar and narrowed its many eyes, then with a flick of a clawed hand, Cullen was spasming in her grasp, coughing and gasping for air. Toriana let out a startled cry and nearly dropped him. She couldn't help the noise of relief that escaped from her, the feeling of happiness at seeing his eyes open and look up at her._

_But something was wrong. His eyes were not the gold of the sun, they were blank and gray, staring sightlessly at the ceiling. His skin was a pallid gray, and the breaths that came from his lips rattled as if his ribs were smacking together in his chest. Toriana's breath caught in her throat, and she reached out a trembling hand to touch Cullen's cheek. He was cold, colder than any living body could be, and she let out a wail of despair, "Cullen, no! What's happened to you?"_

_Pride cackled evilly, "Do you not remember what it looks like to see a body raised from the dead, little mage? I could bring him back properly, with his soul, if I so chose, but I think now I prefer to watch you squirm like a bug, and next time perhaps you will listen when help is offered."_

_Toriana dropped the empty man in her arms and stood, her whole body shaking with rage. She wanted to scream at the demon, to call it all manner of horrible names, but she knew it would only spur the thing on, so she whirled on her heel, leaving Cullen's body in the room as she walked through the door and slammed it shut. She sank to the floor, crying and leaning against the wood of the door, and tried to collect her thoughts. It was not real; it was just the games of a demon. She told herself this, but when the world around her changed again and Cullen died in front of her yet again, calling for her to save him, she could feel her heart breaking, her resolve cracking._

_Again and again the world changed, and she watched the newest Warden die countless times and in so many different ways that she began to find it hard to breath, hard to move, hard to think of anything but those amber eyes full of agony and fear, begging her for help as darkspawn ripped him apart, as he slipped off a cliff to be broken upon the rocks, as he choked on poison that turned his skin a sickly gray-green._

_Pride's laughter echoed in her ears, a gruesome backdrop to the grisly scenes that unfolded before her. No matter how she closed her eyes and covered her ears, she could not escape that noise, could not block out the sound of Cullen choking on his own blood, screaming in pain. No matter how she screamed and shouted and begged for it to end, it continued._

There were hands on her shoulders, shaking her, and Toriana shrieked and twisted away, her heart pounding in her ears. "Toriana. Toriana! It's okay!" The voice was so familiar, but now, barely out of the grasp of the Fade, she could hardly recall a time when she hadn't heard it crying in pain. In a fit of panic, she opened her eyes and choked on her sobs when she saw Cullen staring down at her with wide eyes, unharmed as he sat beside her on her bed.

But she could not help but think it was a trick, another cruel trick by the demon, and she curled her fingers in the front of his shirt and pulled him closer, her eyes wide and frantic. "You're not dead," she whispered, her voice cracking, "What are you? What form of trickery are you?"

Cullen looked confused and a little disturbed, placing his hands over hers and attempting to untangle her fingers from his shirt. She snarled and yanked hard on the fabric until his face was inches from hers, close enough so he could clearly see the tears swimming in her wild eyes, "Why are you doing this to me?" she rasped, her voice haggard and rough.

"Toriana, you were having a-a nightmare of some sort, but you're alright now." Cullen's voice was low and soft, calming as if he were speaking to a frightened child. She took a few long, shaky breaths, her gaze sharply focused on his face, before the tears escaped her eyes and she pressed her face into his chest, needing comfort now so badly that she ignored the awkwardness of the gesture.

As her body shook with her weak sobs, Cullen's body stiffened and his breath caught, unsure what to do. But it was clear that she was distraught from whatever horrible things she had seen in her dreams, and he did not have the heart to turn her away. Plus he had to admit, he could not say that he disliked having her turn to him for security, it gave him a strangely proud, protective feeling over her. And from where her head lay just below his chin he could clearly smell the gentle, light flowery scent of her hair barely covering her own personal scent, more musky and womanly and utterly attractive.

After a moment of awkwardness as she cried into his shirt, Cullen's arms moved to wrap around her and he rubbed his hands up and down her back, murmuring soft, comforting words into her hair. It seemed to help, for she slowly began to relax her tensed muscles, and her grip on his shirt loosened. Sobs eventually turned to silent crying broken by an occasional wet sniff, and though he began to feel his back getting painfully stiff and the front of his shirt was damp with her tears – and most likely snot from her runny nose – he continued to hold her, continued to lend her what comfort he could, without a care for his own.

Toriana's mind was stuffy from crying, but she began to realize just what she was doing. She was sitting on a bed, clinging to a man who had only recently just become her friend again – and a tentative friendship it was. If she was not still shaken from her dream, she likely would have recoiled from the improper nature of it, but as it was she could not pull away now. She longed for human contact; it had been so long since she had been held by anyone, and even longer since anyone had held her after having bad dreams (the only person to ever do so for her had been Alistair), and the feeling was one she did not want to end just yet. For years and years she had awoken in the night crying and suffering, with no one to tell her everything would be alright. Now, she could at least claim in the morning that she had been made delirious from her nightmare and hadn't realized what she was doing, and she could enjoy the safe feeling of Cullen's strong arms around her, like a shield protecting her from the horrors of the world.

It was a feeling she could certainly get used to. With his hands on her back, his deep voice gently rumbling above her head, and the warmth of him seeping into her skin, she could almost imagine that what he had said in her dream had been true, that he loved her and she could once again feel like a woman held in the arms of her protective lover. It was a ridiculous flight of fancy, brought on by the desolation her dream had caused, but she clung to it anyways, knowing she likely would never feel this way again.

She didn't even realize that Alistair had not been in her dream, not once.

Cullen could hear the gradual change in her breathing as Toriana fell asleep, and heaved a sigh of relief that she was no longer crying. Seeing her so lost and broken caused an aching in his heart and made him want to squeeze her tighter to his chest and never let her go. But now he was truly starting to get a cramp in his back, and he was tired himself, too.

He stayed in the position he was in for a while, debating in his mind what to do. He considered just laying her down on her bed and returning to his own, but when he looked down at her leaning with one cheek pressed to his chest, he knew he could not. In the increasing darkness her skin was especially pale and milky, evidence of her noble family, and her black hair caressed the sides of her face like a cascade of silky black water. Her mouth was slightly open, lined by full lips he remembered being so soft, and the look on her face was more peaceful than he had seen on her before. He could not disturb her when she looked so beautiful and serene.

With another sigh, Cullen shifted ever so carefully so that his back was against the wall, keeping his arms around the woman in his arms. She squirmed a little and he froze, worried he had woken her, but she merely sighed in her sleep and slid her hands down to wrap around his torso, drawing a strangled gasp from him. Her proximity and her holding him in such a close way only served to remind him how long it had been since he had been with a woman, and that he had a beautiful one pressed against him, the very one he had longed for for half his life.

He could feel his body responding to her, an uncomfortable pressure below his waist and a quickening of his breath, and he silently cursed himself. He was a gentleman raised in the Chantry, not some panting wretch who lusted after emotionally vulnerable women who trusted him in their moments of weakness! Lack of physical intimacy in his life was no excuse for such lecherous thoughts, thoughts of her pressing those smooth lips against his chest, her tongue flicking out to taste the sweat on his skin as her fingers slowly untied the drawstrings of his pants…

Cullen scowled into the darkness, cursing his overactive imagination and biting his tongue to distract his mind from his inappropriate thoughts with the pain and the seeping of blood in his mouth. He was only glad that she was not lying across his lap, in which case she would have no doubt woken up to find an unpleasant surprise.

Even as he sat there, trying to tame his urges with thoughts as unarousing as he could imagine (Knight-Commander Geagoir in his underclothes, for example), he did not regret where he was one bit. He pulled Toriana a bit closer, relishing in her gentle curves pressing against his ribs, the brush of her warm breath against his collarbone, the way the tips of her hair tickled the skin of his arms.

It was a feeling he could get used to, and one he likely would never feel again. He tried not to think about that, and instead tried to solidify this moment in his mind so he would never forget every little detail of what it might be like to have Toriana as his lover.

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><p><strong>And there you have it! Let me know if you like the new style with the point of view changes!<strong>

**And of course, once again, thanks to all my reviewers and faithful readers and those who have added AUA to their Alerts and Favorites, you brighten my day! :)  
><strong>


	24. Giving and Receiving

**Author's Note:** Here's the next update, dear readers, quickly posted before I head off to Goettingen's town central to eat at the restaurant my aunt works at :) Just a note: Germany... is so amazing. I may never be able to return to America again. ;)

Also, I went back and added a song for Chapter 23, the link to the YouTube video of it is in my profile, if you're interested in listening to it. I thought it fit Cullen and Tori well, with the nightmares and such ;)

Enjoy the newest installment, and thanks for all of your support!

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><p>Toriana did not have to open her eyes to know where she was. She could feel the rise and fall of Cullen's chest and the warm breeze of his breath on the top of her head. Somehow her arms had ended up around his waist, and he had one of his hands on her back and the other lain gently on her upper arm. For a moment she didn't move or open her eyes, not wanting to disturb the peace and face the awkwardness that would surely ensue when she had to speak to him again.<p>

Finally she couldn't justify staying there any longer, and she carefully unfurled herself from around him, ducking out from under his arms. Despite the care she took, he stirred and opened his eyes slowly; Toriana avoided his gaze, scooting to the edge of her bed to sit on it facing away from him. She ran her hands through her hair and over her face, trying to gather her thoughts, and the silence in the room was deafening. She couldn't bear to face him, not now.

Cullen couldn't remember falling asleep, and though he knew he had dreams of a pleasant sort for once, he could not remember them when he awoke. Toriana stirring in his arms brought him out of his slumber, and as she pulled away from him she seemed ashamed, if her avoidant behavior was any indication. He didn't know what to do; he was worried that anything he might say would only make the situation worse in a variety of different ways. And so, he did what his Templar training taught him so well: he stayed silent.

His silence unnerved her. _Why won't he say something?_ Tori wanted to run from the room, to avoid facing the man who had seen her at her weakest and who had sheltered her like a child. It was embarrassing that he had gotten a clear view of just how pathetic she could be, but she was still grateful to him for helping her, for bringing her back from that dark place. But that didn't mean it was easy.

She cleared her throat, not turning to look at him, and though she wanted to speak in a distant, unfeeling voice – the voice of the Warden-Commander, a visage she could hide behind in her current uncertainty – the voice that came out of her mouth was Toriana's, soft and exposed. "Thank you," she murmured, wincing at how vulnerable she sounded.

Cullen was surprised. He had expected harsh words from her, a sharp reprimand or something of the like, but instead he got… gratitude? He couldn't speak, he could only stare at her wordlessly, eyes wide, hating how bumbling and unsure of himself he always felt around her. Why couldn't he just tell her how he felt, what he was thinking?

_Because she would hate him for it_. And that was why he kept his attraction a secret. He had made the mistake, once, of admitting his infatuation with her, when he had been weak and trapped in that cage; she had never spoken to him of it, but the shock that had been on her features after he had said it had told him more than her words ever could: she would never feel the same way.

Toriana sighed when the silence stretched on and stood. "I… have matters to attend to," was all she said before she walked from the room without a glance back, Cullen's gaze like a burning brand on her back. She walked quickly through the halls of the prison-in-all-but-name, trying to remember where the Knight-Commander's office was. Eventually she found it, and took a deep breath to calm herself before she walked in with as professional a look on her face as she could manage. The Warden-Commander was back.

. . . . .

Cullen wanted to call her back as she left, but he didn't know what he would say to her if he did. 'I'm sorry you have nightmares'? 'Don't be ashamed, everyone has moments when they need someone to comfort them'? No, that sounded ridiculous even in his head, and so he stayed silent.

He couldn't stay here any longer; he needed to get out, to get away from his thoughts. His chest of belongings – which had previously been kept in his office – had been brought to the room and left at the foot of his bed. After changing into clothes that didn't smell like sweat and a healing room, he left the room and tried to think of what he could possibly distract himself with until his mind was more settled.

. . . . .

Toriana left the Knight-Commander's office feeling rather pleased with herself. She had convinced Kenneth to give her fifteen men for another trip to the Deep Roads – more than Cullen had spared her, she noted with a hint of irritation. At least now her task of ridding Kirkwall of its darkspawn problem would be slightly less difficult.

Now she had to find armor if she wanted to stay alive on this expedition, and she certainly did. She cursed her luck with the ambush that happened when she had been injured; it had cost her her armor and her staff, which she hadn't had the time or the thought to grab before they fled their camp in the Deep Roads. Mistress Woolsey would not be happy with her for incurring such a high cost on this trip – her armor had been expensive to make, and the price of having a new staff made would likely use of all of the meager amount of gold she was personally allowed from the Vigil's Keep coffers as 'wages' of a sort.

Tori sighed as she walked through the Gallows and headed back to Hightown. It would be hard to explain just how all that gold had gone down the drain, and she didn't relish the task. Woolsey was a stern woman at the best of times, and was strict with the gold of the Keep.

Her worries were put to the back of her mind as she set her attention on perusing the various stalls for good armor. The best she found (that she could actually lift, that is) was a light set of hardened leather armor that was made for a man rather than a woman. But it was all she could find, and it was inexpensive besides, so she bought it and carried under her arm as she headed back to the Gallows to dress before making the final preparations to go into the Deep Roads.

As she arrived in the Gallows courtyard, she was surprised to see Cullen speaking to one of the few mages in the courtyard – and one of the ones running a stall selling things, no less. Not for the first time she was struck by how handsome he was. She could see the strong build of his shoulders and the slight taper to his waist, even through his shirt (which she noticed was clean, now). His hair looked almost blonde with the sunlight dancing in it and his eyes were like molten gold, and for a moment she slowed her pace so she could admire the view without him noticing.

When he turned and saw her, she jerked her gaze away and felt her face turning red with embarrassment. By the Maker, but she had bad luck when it came to this man! Now that he had seen her ogling him, she was about to merely nod politely at a distance before _calmly walking_ back to her room (she would certainly not _run_). Unfortunately, it seemed he had other plans as he gave the mage some money and then approached her.

"Toriana," he called, as if there was a doubt that she had seen him and he wanted to make sure he had her attention, as if he hadn't just caught her staring at him. There was a moment of awkward silence as she stared at a spot just above his head and didn't speak. She wasn't sure if she could say anything that wouldn't sound either utterly ridiculous or undeservedly mean – it seemed that when she was thrust into uncomfortable situations with Cullen, she either looked like an idiot or a complete bitch.

Things did not bode well for her.

Cullen cleared his throat nervously, put off by her apparent attempt to ignore him. Hadn't she been looking at him before, when he had turned? Now her silence demoralized him, and as he tightened his grasp on the length of Dragonbone in his hand he felt a sudden rush of panic that what he was doing was silly and rather forward of him. After all, she never asked him for a replacement weapon, and he certainly knew nothing of staves…

But when he had passed by Solvitus's shop and saw the glint of a dark red staff leaning behind his table – clearly not Sol's own staff, which was strapped to his back – Cullen hadn't been able to repress his curiosity. When he inquired about it, Sol let him look it over, a bit confused as to why a Templar of all people would want a staff.

"Made of pure Dragonbone by one of the mages right here in the Circle, before…" the mage trailed off, his eyes growing sad but guarded as he looked at the Templar before him. There was still tension, there, despite all of Cullen's efforts to sooth things since Meredith's death. Solvitus seemed to gather himself and continued, "It's a beauty, no doubt. I have never seen it used, but I have heard of its power; its owner left the city in a hurry without it, though I cannot imagine why he would leave so fine a piece. The bone was from a high dragon the Champion of Kirkwall herself killed."

Cullen's eyebrows rose as he rolled the weapon over in his hands; an interesting connection, if the mage's claim was true. It _was_ quite beautiful, in a strange and dark way, with engravings all along its length and a two-foot, slightly curved blade at the end that was made of the same material as the shaft. The entire thing was one single smooth piece, eerily the color of dried blood, but then he couldn't help but think that everything involved with magic looked eerie in some way.

He knew Toriana's staff had been lost in the Deep Roads, he had seen her casting spells with her hands and had noticed that the focus required to do so seemed to be greater than it had been with her staff, and it was slower besides. He considered buying it for her, though a weapon so fine certainly had quite a price on it and there was always the chance she would reject it.

He'd take that chance.

Just as he decided he would buy the staff, he felt the strange prickling sensation of being watched and turned, just as surprised as Toriana was to see her looking at him. As she stiffened and her face grew red he turned back to Solvitus and paid him for the weapon – nearly what his entire monthly salary as Knight-Commander had been, the damn thing was.

Approaching her seemed to take forever, and she seemed intent on not looking at or speaking to him, only making it harder. Finally he managed to croak out, "I, ah, thought you might need a new staff," and held the thing out to her, praying she wouldn't throw it back in his face and laugh at him, or act offended or angry.

Toriana's eyes widened at the sight of the staff, not just because she was surprised Cullen had bought her a new one, but because it was, to put it simply, _gorgeous_. The deep red of the metal (or was it something else? She wasn't an expert on such things) was a rich, regal color, and it was covered in intricate engravings that had clearly been done by a loving hand. Here was a dragon spitting fire at a crowd of knights, there a griffon unfurling its wings with a man in armor – a Grey Warden – perched on its back. Lions and lizards and wolves and spiders and all sorts of creatures covered its polished surface, in a tapestry that was interwoven and beautiful and complicated, demanding constant attention to fully appreciate it.

The blade on the weapon was curved and shaped in a way she had never seen before, with one smooth edge that looked extremely smooth and sharp, and the other edge with wickedly curved barbs. The shaft was carved in a way so that a dragon's head was at the end and the blade appeared to come from the beast's open mouth. Even from where she was, she could feel the gentle thrum of its power against her skin. It was not just a weapon; it was a work of art.

She was speechless. How could she accept such a gift, from him of all people? It must have cost a small fortune, and she didn't know how much Templars were paid, but she guessed it wasn't much. After an extended silence in which Cullen stared at her with what looked akin to anxiety in his eyes, she shook her head, her eyes large and round, "Cullen, I can't… I can't accept this," she protested, unable to tear her gaze from the thing.

Cullen grimaced, pushing it closer to her, "Please, it's a gift. And it was made from the bone of a dragon your cousin killed," he added. She could see the nervousness in his eyes, putting wrinkles in his forehead, and she realized that if she didn't take it, he would likely be offended. Or at the very least upset with her. And she couldn't say that she _didn't_ want it… Quite the contrary.

After another moment she sighed and reached out to grasp the staff, surprised at the way it seemed to exude happiness at being in her hands. It was likely her imagination. It was light and fit in her hands well, as if it was made to sit in them, and the magic in the thing gently brushed against her consciousness, as if in a friendly greeting.

Tori couldn't keep the smile from her face as she looked down at her new weapon, then up at Cullen, meeting his eyes for the first time since the night before, "Thank you," she said, trying to pour as much gratitude into her voice as she could. Still, it seemed inadequate; just as her initial thanks after he gave her that flower all those years ago, it just wasn't enough to do the gift justice.

As if by instinct, before she could think about what she was doing and refrain from it, she stepped forward quickly, tilted her head up, and pressed a kiss to his cheek. It only lasted a second, and when she pulled away she avoided his eyes again, instead looking down at her new staff with a small smile on her face. "Thank you," she murmured one last time before she turned and walked away without giving him a chance to respond.

Cullen couldn't move. As Toriana disappeared into the Templar Hall, he could still feel her kiss on his cheek, the soft brush of those beautiful lips against his skin, like the touch of some benevolent Fade spirit. His heart was pounding in his chest, and he knew he was standing there gaping like some fool, staring at the last place he had seen her before she'd turned a corner.

She had kissed him. On the cheek, yes, but the fact that she had kissed him at all now, when she was still clearly embarrassed about the night before… Well, he wasn't sure what it meant. His mind felt twisted and confused as he tried to figure out why she had done that. For the staff, no doubt, but a simple 'thank you' would have been sufficient.

He remembered the last time she had kissed him, after he had given her the sunflower, though that time had been on the lips. Twice she had kissed him, now, despite the fact she acted as if she wanted nothing to do with him half the time. It was likely just wishful thinking on his part, but perhaps… just perhaps Toriana held just a hint of attraction for him, as well.

As he slowly turned to begin walking back to their room in the Templar Hall, Cullen couldn't keep the smile off of his face.


	25. The Storyteller

**Author's Note:** This is mostly just a filler chapter, I apologize, but I'm suffering from a bit of writer's block (and I'm being constantly hounded by my cousin's bratty child, screaming-prone... I'm going crazy) with this story :( I'll try to get the creative juices flowing for next chapter, but every time I sit down to write for AUA, I only get ideas for Moments.

Which brings me to my next point. I've started another 'story' of sorts called Moments, which is going to be a collection of shorts/scenes from the lives of characters in AUA. It will be a supplemental story to this one, with lots of scenes from Tori and Cullen's past, so I recommend reading it to better understand them. It's not required, and you will be able to read AUA fully on its own, but I highly recommend Moments ;) Currently the only 'chapter' in it is about Jowan, but many more will follow as I have lots of ideas for it. I'd love it if you hopped on over to take a look at it and let me know what you think :)

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><p><em>Shit.<em>

Toriana ran through a list of obscenities in her mind as she reached her room, the delight for the new staff having worn off and realization of what she'd done hitting her. _Why in all of Thedas did I have to _kiss _him?_

She tossed her new armor and staff onto her bed and swore once out loud, running her hands through her hair. That was _no_ way to behave with a new Warden, and especially not with _Cullen_! She thought of all the times she had caught him looking at her, all the times those amber eyes had burned like miniature suns as they watched her, full of something she could no longer deny she had seen, and she swore again. It was just like back at the Circle – for he seemed to have gotten over his torture those years ago and that old attraction he had once held for her now returned – when he longed for her and she unwittingly encouraged him, like some fool harlot!

Toriana took a few deep breaths to calm herself. She had to stop this, this unconscious flirting with him and encouraging him. She viciously stomped down the part of her that protested, that told her it wasn't a problem, that it was fun to do; that part of her was the same part that whispered in her mind that she had enjoyed kissing him… that she wanted to do it _again_.

"Maker burn it all, no!" she snarled, glaring at the wall. It was _Cullen_! She did not want anything romantic with him, they were merely _friends_. Pursuing something more with him – if she even wanted it, and she most certainly _didn't_, she told herself – would only serve to ruin their friendship. A relationship between them would never work; they were too different, they fought too much, butted heads too much.

It would never work.

Toriana sighed and began strapping on her new armor, needing something to distract her from her confusing thoughts. She felt a sudden press of melancholy as she slid her vambraces over her arms, and tightened the buckles on her breastplate. Why the hell did she care so much that it would never work between them?

She scowled at the air as she finished putting on her armor. There was a mirror in the corner of the room, and she looked into it. The armor fit uncomfortably over her chest, having been made to fit a man, and the breastplate was just a bit too long for her torso, making it uncomfortable for her to bend over as it dug into her thighs when she did. But besides that it was good armor, or at least the best Kirkwall had to offer.

The door to their room opened and Toriana refused to look, knowing exactly who it was. She pulled her hair up into a tight bun and tied it back with a strap of leather, listening as Cullen moved and sat on his bed. After making a few minor adjustments to her armor, she couldn't put it off any longer and turned around.

With a curt, professional nod to Cullen without revealing any emotion on her face, she grabbed the staff from her bed and left the room.

Cullen grimaced as soon as she left. If that hadn't been hostility there, he didn't know what was. She hadn't even spoken one word to him… He didn't understand. He had just given her a gift, one she had apparently liked quite a bit, and _she_ had been the one who had kissed _him_, so why was she acting so cold towards him?

He shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. Would he ever be able to understand women?

. . . . .

Toriana spent the rest of the day avoiding returning to the Templar Hall. Tomorrow she would be heading out with her Wardens and the Templars Kenneth was giving her, and she had every intention of enjoying what would likely be her last night on the surface for the next couple of weeks (eradicating darkspawn was a lengthy task). She certainly _wasn't_ avoiding Cullen.

When she arrived at The Hanged Man, she was surprised to see her Wardens (excluding Cullen) sitting around a table with a beardless dwarf who seemed to have a love of jewelry and open-chested shirts, listening as he spoke, his hands gesturing in the air. A few people had crowded around the table as well, listening in.

Curious, Tori approached slowly, arriving in earshot just in time to hear the end of the story, which concluded with the death of an apparently very large high dragon that he had helped kill. She smirked, amused, as she walked up to the table. Her Wardens nodded to her with various forms of greetings before returning to their conversations, but the dwarf leaned back in his chair and smiled at her charmingly.

"So this is the fabled 'Hero of Ferelden'?" he asked, voice as smooth as his looks, and she nodded, raising an eyebrow.

"Can I help you, ser… ?"

"Varric Tethras, at your service," he took her hand and bowed over it, though he refrained from kissing it, for which she was grateful. Dwarven kisses were not high on the list of things she wanted to experience in her life (Oghren had played a big part in her apprehensiveness about them). "I'm a good friend of the Champion and Blondie, they mentioned you might need some help. I must say, the stories we hear about you up here are many and varied, and perhaps we can come to a deal of sorts."

Toriana immediately grew suspicious. Smooth talking and mentions of 'deals' were rarely a good thing. But he was a friend of Hawke's and Anders (_Blondie? Some nickname_), and so he was likely at least a _little_ trustworthy. "I'm listening," she grunted as she lowered herself into a chair beside him, adjusting her armor so it wouldn't cut off the circulation to her legs.

Varric grinned, revealing very straight teeth, "You get to the point, Hero. I like that." She stared at him flatly, unamused, and was about to object to his calling her 'Hero' before he spoke again. "Your cousin told me you'll be getting rid of our darkspawn problem, but you've been having trouble finding mercenaries. Well I'm a storyteller, and I've been dying to hear a first-hand account of the Hero of Ferelden saving all of Thedas from the Blight. What if we traded, mercenaries for a simple story?"

Toriana stared at the blonde dwarf, incredulous. She held a hand up, narrowing her eyes at him, "First off, how would _you_ be able to find me willing mercenaries? All the ones I've spoken to didn't seem too keen on going into the Deep Roads."

The dwarf's smile was wide and sly, "I have many connections," he explained vaguely, "I'll get you your mercenaries by tomorrow morning. Now, as for your story—"

"Why would you do this for me, for only a story?" Toriana cut him off suspiciously. She wasn't in the mood to bandy words with a man she didn't know if she could fully trust.

Varric's smile stayed in place, in fact it grew even wider, and he answered her question with an easy charm, "I think your story is worth more than contacting and a little persuading of some mercenaries. Like I said, Hero, I'm a storyteller."

Toriana scowled, but it was halfhearted, "My name is Toriana, not Hero," she muttered, a little put-out by his continued cheeriness. When he merely winked, she gave in with a sigh. She needed those mercenaries too much to let her mild suspicions stop her. "Fine. Do you want me to tell you the story now?"

Varric raised his hand and ordered a round of ale for their table before he leaned forward on his hands, clasped under his chin, and smiled sweetly at Tori, "Let's start from the beginning. How did you become a Grey Warden?"

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><p><strong>Thanks for reading, and thank you to all who take the time to write reviews, I love reading them, they're such a boost! Until next update... tschuss von Deutschland!<strong>


	26. Bliss, Confusion

**Author's Note:** This chapter gave me SO MUCH trouble, you have no idea. I swear Tori and Cullen have minds of their own, the events in this chapter go against _everything_ I had planned for these two. But... it's what came out, and it's what the characters wanted, so I guess I'm gonna have to slightly reform my storyline, haha.

A side note on the mention of the Hognose snake... Hognose snakes _do_ play dead, but they are harmless when they are doing so. The sentence I put in here regarding them is the quote of another character, and is actually partially incorrect, because Hognose snakes _do not_ bite you when they are playing dead. It's actually a really cute acting display, I recommend YouTubing "Hognose snake playing dead". They're very funny, and even when you turn them onto their bellies they'll flip back over as if insisting that they really are dead! :) Okay, end rant about snakes (which so happen to be my favorite animal, hehe).

Enjoy the newest (and one of the longest to date) update! :)

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><p>Cullen was getting tired of sitting in his bed and reading. Though he liked to read certain books when he was in the mood, and though it was not a pastime he had been able indulge in much since he had become Knight-Captain and later Knight-Commander, he just couldn't relax and enjoy it now. His thoughts were churning, and he yearned to get out of the Templar Hall to clear his head.<p>

It was beginning to get dark, however. The only place he knew of that was both safe and interesting to go to (besides the Blooming Rose – and he was _not_ going there) was The Hanged Man. Some ale sounded good about now, to blur the thoughts in his mind so he wouldn't have to think about Toriana's lips and her cold stare, and the confusion he felt. He rarely drank, but tonight… Tonight he wanted to get drunk.

He only hoped Toriana hadn't gone to the same place. He didn't think he could stand another awkward meeting with her.

. . . . .

Toriana tried telling the story with just the basics, leaving out most details and especially the ones she didn't want getting out into the public. She won the Proving in Orzammar and found Cairidin's golem in the Deep Roads, returning with the last thing he ever forged on the Anvil of the Void to crown Lord Harrowmont as King. Branka and her betrayal were not mentioned.

She found the Lady of the Forest and convinced her to sacrifice herself to free the werewolves – and thus the elves – from the werewolf curse. Zathrian's part in the curse was not mentioned.

She stopped the 'mysterious' undead army attacking Redcliffe and found the Urn of Sacred Ashes to rescue Arl Eamon so he could be with his wife and son. Connor's possession and Jowan's involvement were not mentioned.

She saved the Circle Tower from the blood mage Uldred, convincing Knight-Commander Greagoir to rethink his call for the Right of Annulment. Seeing her dead or possessed mage friends and finding Cullen trapped and tortured were not mentioned.

And she fought the hordes of darkspawn to get to the Archdemon and strike the killing blow. Morrigan's dark ritual was not mentioned.

Tori also told Varric of her companions, her friends. Morrigan, the sly, snarky, harsh-reality apostate from the Wilds. Rabbit, her faithful mabari she had saved from death, who had a love of pork bones and a brain smarter than some humans. Leliana, the sweet, giggling, shoe-loving bard from Orlais. Sten, the stern and mostly silent Qunari with a sweet-tooth and a surprising soft side. Zevran, the Antivan Crow with a dirty mind and a tendency to endlessly tease. Oghren, the drunken dwarf with a crude sense of humor and no sense of propriety. Wynne, the kind, wise, elderly mage who taught her all she knew of healing, and more about life besides.

Varric was a sharp one, though, he didn't miss a thing. "And the King, right? Before he was crowned?"

Tori swallowed and nodded, quickly changing the subject. "So… that's the story."

The dwarf chuckled and shook his head, "Come on, now. I know there's more to this story, much more. Though if you really don't want to give me details, I can just… _make them up_." The sly look in his eyes told her she didn't want that to happen.

Tori sighed and ordered another ale, ignoring the fact that her Wardens were avidly listening in to the tale, as well as a few of the bar's other patrons. She had never told anyone the full story, and the Wardens at least were intrigued to hear all of how their Commander stopped the Blight.

"Fine. But it's going to take half the night," she warned.

Varric spread his hands, "I've got the time, Hero. Now let's hear those details."

. . . . .

Cullen was glad Toriana was distracted. He had taken up a small table in the corner of the room a bit of a distance away from where the Grey Wardens sat – he was unwilling to test his luck with appearing next to the Warden-Commander, worried she would shut down and give him that distant, unfeeling look she had given him earlier. He didn't know if he could take that again, not today.

So he sat alone, sipping at his foul-tasting ale and listening in as Toriana told her story, the story he had never heard before, about the Blight.

. . . . .

Hours later, their whole table was laughing, and Tori was wiping tears of mirth from her eyes as she downed the last of her sixth ale.

"And then Sten actually comes to her the next day, and he says, all serious-like, 'You will need armor, and a helmet. And something to bite down on. How strong are human teeth?' You should have seen the look on her face!" The table roared with laughter and Tori had to fight her own down – made difficult because of the pleasant buzz of alcohol in her veins – to continue.

"Needless to say she didn't tease him about it again. Alistair always said she didn't know when to back off; well, he said a _lot_ of things about her – most often being that she was a _bitch_." She giggled drunkenly with her friends, then paused with a hiccup as she realized just who she had been talking about, feeling a lump forming in her throat. Varric was giving her a curious look and she turned her head away, trying to compose herself, but the buzz in her mind was only making her emotions more intense and hard to repress.

Tori coughed and held a hand up, "Excuse me," was all she could mutter out before she stood, unsteadily, and made her way outside, nearly toppling into a few people on the way. She leaned against the cool stone wall of the inn and slid down so she was sitting against it. Alistair's face was in her mind, haunting her with an almost accusing look, and as she pressed her face into her hands she desperately tried to hold back her misery.

"Commander, are you alright?" Pater's voice drifted to her ears and she looked up to see him standing beside her, a concerned look on his face.

Toriana shrugged and sniffed, "I'm fine," she said, though her voice had a clear melancholy in it.

Pater dropped down to sit beside her, "You and the King were close," he said softly, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye. It wasn't a question. After six years of knowing her, he had come to notice how she avoided the King when he visited, how she grew upset when he was mentioned, and furious when people insinuated that they had been romantically involved.

Normally she would snap, grow angry, avoid the subject, leave… but now she was too drunk and too tired of keeping it to herself, of holding the pain inside so it could fester and burn her. And she trusted Pater, it couldn't be so bad to just admit it to him. She sighed and pulled her knees up under her chin, staring at the ground in front of her feet, "Yeah," she murmured, and did not elaborate.

Pater was surprised she answered him and did not get mad, but now he could see the hurt in her eyes and he felt an almost fatherly feeling towards the woman. He had a wife back in Amaranthine and she had been pregnant twice, when they were younger and before he had joined the Wardens, but both times the babes had died shortly after birth. Even though he was only fourteen years older than Tori, he had always felt that protective, loving feeling towards her, as if she took the place of his dead children, even as she was his Commander and he deferred to her.

He slid a large arm over her shoulders and pulled her against him, "You miss him?"

Toriana sighed and leaned her head against Pater's shoulder, "Yes," she whispered, feeling her throat and eyes burn with the effort of withholding her tears. Her emotions were churning within her, no longer held in control as she always tried to keep them. She cursed the ale, cursed her weakness for it, even as she spoke again. "I miss him so much," her voice cracked and she couldn't hold the tears back any longer. They came out in a torrent, broken only by hiccups and weak sobs, and she tried burying her face in her arms to hide her shame at crying so pathetically.

Pater frowned down at the top of her head, worried to see his Commander looking so miserable. He patted her shoulder, "Come, I think the storytelling is over for tonight," he said in a gentle voice. "Let's get you back to your room."

She shook her head, hastily wiping her tears away and having a moment of clarity as she straightened, "No, I made a deal," she said firmly, with only a slight drunken slur. She wasn't one to go back on her word, and she still had things to tell the waiting dwarf inside. She gave Pater a grateful look, "Thank you for checking on me… I just need a moment alone and I'll be back inside."

When he hesitated, the concern clearly written on his face, she patted his shoulder, "Truly, I'll be okay," she reassured, glad that the alcohol was allowing her to look so composed when inside her emotions were a messy storm.

Finally Pater nodded to Tori and stood, returning to the raucous laughter and talking inside The Hanged Man. As he returned to the table, explaining to the others that Tori had merely needed some fresh air, he wondered if this was what it was like to have a daughter whose heart was broken.

. . . . .

Cullen sat up in his chair in one corner of The Hanged Man as he watched Toriana stumble out the door, her eyes swimming with agony. He considered going after her, but the Warden Pater beat him to it. He relaxed just slightly; at least she had someone to look over her right now. She looked drunk enough to fall unconscious in a ditch somewhere, and he grimaced to think of all the horrible things that could befall her alone in Kirkwall's Lowtown.

What had upset her so? He thought back to what she had said, about the current King of Ferelden. Was she upset remembering him insulting one of her companions, her friend? He didn't understand.

"I noticed she doesn't talk much about that King of yours, and when she does it's by first name. Is it true she and he were lovers during the Blight?" The dwarf Varric – who Cullen recognized as once being a friend of Hawke's – was leaning forward, asking the remaining Wardens at the table.

Cullen froze, made difficult by the two mugs he had drunk. Toriana and the King, lovers? He quickly tried to think back to all the times she had talked about King Alistair, but realized that he had never heard her speak of him. And when she had mentioned her nameless past lover… she hadn't made any indication that he was the King. And what Varric said was just a rumor, that didn't make it the truth…

He was snapped out of his thoughts when the front door opened and Pater returned, without Toriana. Cullen frowned and waited, but even after a minute (at least he thought it was a minute, time didn't pass normally with the buzz of alcohol in his veins) she didn't come in. Again the thoughts of all the gruesome things that could happen to her flitted through his slightly foggy mind (apparently his _imagination_ was one of the few things unhindered by the ale) and worry quickly took over, overriding any feelings of apprehension he had about talking to her again.

Wavering slightly, Cullen stood from his table and made his way through the numerous patrons and out the door.

He almost didn't see her, sitting on the ground hunched over her bent legs in front of the pub just outside of the torchlight, but he could hear her. She was muttering drunkenly under her breath, and he only understood _mage, hate you, _and _duty_. She didn't even notice that he was there, she was so absorbed in her conversation with herself.

No, not herself, he realized as he took a step closer and caught more of her conversation. Someone who wasn't there.

"I hate her. You didn't like her either, you even told me you didn't trust her," Toriana mumbled, her words slurring as she put her chin on her knees and stared into the darkness ahead of her. "How can you stand to lay next to her every night, to t-touch h-her?" Her voice broke and Cullen felt a horrible sense of dread that he was intruding where he shouldn't be, on grief that he shouldn't see, but he couldn't walk away now.

"I thought you loved me," she whispered so softly he almost couldn't hear, and her voice sounded so agonizingly hollow that he was seized with the urge to pull her into his arms and hold her like he had the night before, until her pain was gone and she forgot whatever – whoever – haunted her so.

Cullen cleared his throat, "Toriana?" he called softly, wincing when it came out sounding louder than he had intended in the silent, empty streets.

He could barely see her brow wrinkled in confusion, "Alistair?" she murmured, squinting into the darkness. Cullen's breath caught in his throat, and suddenly he knew with a certainty that the rumors were, for once, correct. Toriana was in love with the King. An ugly emotion reared itself in his chest, clawing at his ribs, and he felt suddenly foolish and selfish that he was sitting here growing jealous when there was a woman before him who was clearly torn apart.

He shifted uncomfortably, not sure what to say, and she heard the sound of his clothing rustling and turned to face him. Her face didn't register surprise, he just saw… sadness. And it hurt him to see her looking so forlorn, so lost, as he had never before seen her.

"Oh. Cullen." She didn't sound disappointed, merely making a statement, as if she had said the sky was blue or her hair was black. No emotion at all.

He didn't know what he was doing here, in front of this drunken woman with an obviously broken heart, standing awkwardly and without any idea of what he should say to her, when all he really wanted to say was that the King was a fool to let her go, that she was a thing of rarity and beauty in this world and that if this Alistair didn't see that then he did not deserve her tears. But that wouldn't help. He cleared his throat again, all too aware of the fuzziness on his tongue and in his mind, "Are you alright?"

Toriana let out a laugh, but it was devoid of anything resembling amusement, and she looked up at him with disturbingly blank eyes, "Was I ever, Cullen?" When he just stared at her silently, afraid he would say something wrong, she shrugged, and in an instant the emptiness was gone and replaced by a mask of uncaring, as if she hadn't just been talking in her mind to her ex-lover, as if she wasn't in pain. She was an impressive actor. He wondered how she could keep up such a charade, day in and day out. She patted the ground next to her, "Sit."

Cullen didn't know where this was going, why she was actually _welcoming_ his company after her actions earlier in the day, and the cold words of Meredith sprang into his head unbidden. '_They will tempt you with their weakness, make you want to protect them, and that is when they turn on you. They are like the Hognose snake that pretends to die and then strikes when you stop to offer sympathy. Any sorrow they may appear to bear is a lie, a trick.'_

He pushed the thought away, because he knows now that they were the paranoid words of a woman driven to insanity, and he knows that of all mages Toriana wouldn't do such a thing. He lowered himself to the ground, grunting when he loses balance and practically falls.

She giggled, actually _giggled_, and though his face colors with embarrassment he can't help but feel some measure of relief that she is no longer trapped in her misery – or at least has managed to bury it for now. As if she could hear how silly she sounded, she grinned impishly, "I'm drunk," she whispered conspiratorially.

Cullen stared at her, both intrigued and horrified at this new facet of Toriana he had never before seen: drunk and near delirious. "Yes," is all he can get out, sounding half-strangled and utterly bemused.

Tori nodded, scooting closer, and he's suddenly all too aware of her warmth and how she was only inches away and how she was looking straight at him. She grinned, "I like that Varric fellow. He buys me drinks," she said in an almost childlike voice.

Cullen had to fight back the urge to grimace, "Maybe you should refrain from drinking any more…" he started to say, but he trailed off when he realized she was staring at him with a strange intensity.

"Why have you been so nice to me?" she asked, and for a moment he wonders if she's not quite as drunk as she's acting because she sounds so clear-headed, so serious, and the look she's giving him seems to go straight into his soul.

He chokes on his words, doesn't know what to say, and tries to avoid her gaze but her eyes are holding him there and he can't move, and his mind is so fuzzy and now he's regretting drinking so much because all he wants to do is tell her the truth. "I-I… We're friends," he finally managed to get out, holding back his sigh of relief that he didn't say more than that.

But Toriana still stared at him, unspeaking, and he suddenly finds the words at his lips unbidden, and by the time he has said them it's too late to take them back, "I care about you."

Cullen waited with bated breath as she looked at him long and hard, as if she were trying to discern if he was a figment of her imagination. Finally a slow smile grew on her lips and she gave him a warm look, and now that his eyes were adjusted to the darkness he could see her cheeks flush, "Thank you." Her voice is soft, caressing, and he tries not to stare at her lips but she's so beautiful and all he can think of is their softness, and the way she's looking at him makes his heart race, even if he can't quite tell what emotion is in her eyes. All he knows is that it's a positive one, and she looked happy when he told her cared for her.

He's not sure what possessed him to do it, what foolishness got into his head (or was it just the alcohol that did it?), but suddenly he's leaning forward, closing the inches that separate them. When he presses his lips to hers she stiffens in surprise, but she's not pulling away and he takes that as a minor victory.

Cullen thoughts are gone and it's only him and Toriana in the world, the feel of her smooth lips on his, the silkiness of her hair as he reaches up and tangles his fingers in it and rubs his thumb along her jawbone. He doesn't think of the consequences of his actions when she eases against him, _kisses him back_, and then her hands are on the back of his neck and she's making a soft half-whimper, half-moan in her throat and the smell of her – buried under the smell of alcohol, but still there – is filling his nose and he has to restrain himself from pulling her against him. She's the one who opens her mouth, who lets his all-too-willing tongue through to caress hers, to explore her mouth with a strange mixture of tentativeness and passion. His mind is spinning, but he loves it, he loves the feeling and the taste of her tongue twining with his, he loves that he can feel the pulse in her jaw firing as rapidly as his is, and he loves that finally, _finally_, he is doing what he's wanted to do since he was fifteen years old.

Toriana pulls away first, gasping for air, and her cheeks are flushed and her lips are swollen and red. Her lovely brown eyes are half-shut as she stares at his mouth and tries to catch her breath. Cullen watches her, wanting to kiss her again but unsure if she would let him again; though by the look in those dark eyes – a look that makes goosebumps rise on his skin and makes his heart beat even harder – she _would_ let him, she _wants_ him to. But he made the first move, and he was nothing if not a gentleman, and would let her make the next move if she so chose.

There's a moment when she leans a bit closer, her breath tickling his lips, and he can tell she's about to kiss him. And then the moment is gone. A look flashed across her face that looks almost like guilt, and then she pushed him away roughly, her hands spread against his chest and a hard look in her eye. "Don't!" she rasped, and then there are tears in her eyes.

Cullen's mind is so foggy and he wonders if he missed something, or did something wrong, and as he stares at her she drops her face into her hands, pressing her palms hard into her eyes. "I-I'm sorry if…" he said, trying to understand what went wrong because he thought she had been enjoying it, too. He hoped she wouldn't cry again. "I didn't…" But he doesn't know what to say, and so he falls silent, and just watches her.

Toriana sits for a moment with her head in her hands before she's abruptly lurching to her feet. "Don't do that again," she gets out past her tight throat, and though she tries to glare at him the only emotion in her eyes is pain. Before he can reply, she has gone back into The Hanged Man.

Cullen just sits on the ground, with the taste of her still on his lips and an insurmountable feeling of confusion as he wonders: _What did I do wrong?_

* * *

><p><strong>Also, another side note... Poor Cullen! :(<strong>

**Please don't hate Tori too bad.**** She's trying her best****... She's just not too good at this, hah. Next chapter will be up within a week!**_  
><em>


	27. Guilt

**Author's Note:** Here's the next installment of AUA for you folks, hope you enjoy it! Next update should be in just a few days :)

* * *

><p>Tori didn't return to the Templar Hall that night.<p>

She stayed in her room at The Hanged Man, after spending a couple more hours telling Varric the rest of her 'story.' Cullen did not come back into the pub, and for that she was grateful even if she felt a bit guilty for leaving him there without any explanation. She somehow managed to put her thoughts on hold as she told the dwarf tales from the Blight, but once she stumbled up to her room, even drunker than she had been before, her mind began churning.

Alistair's face swam in her vision, looking both accusing and betrayed, and as she slunk out of her armor and dropped into her bed she let out a tortured noise. He seemed to be saying '_you've forgotten me, you've replaced me_.'

"No," she gasped into the darkness of her room, "Never."

But she couldn't shake the memory of Cullen's mouth on hers, of the ache he caused in the pit of her stomach, of the look in his eyes when she'd broken the kiss, dark and wanting and almost _reverent_, as if he were holding a goddess in his arms. He had tasted so horribly good, and though his facial hair had scratched at her lips she had relished in the feeling, had wanted _more_ of it.

Toriana shook her head vigorously, furiously, trying to forget the feeling and pretending like the gnawing sense of loss in her chest was _not_ for the ex-Templar. As much as it hurt her, she clung to the memory of Alistair, to the heart he had broken, because at least _that_ was something that she understood. Cullen was something new and terrifying and unknown, and she wasn't ready to venture into that territory; she wasn't ready to try and figure out _what_ it was she felt towards him when she should only love _one_ man, even if he was no longer hers and never would be hers again. She just wasn't ready.

She didn't think she would _ever_ be ready.

She lay in bed for hours before she fell into a restless sleep, plagued by memories of her old love and this new attraction.

. . . . .

Cullen didn't know what to think.

After Toriana left him in front of The Hanged Man, stunned and heart still beating rapidly from the kiss, he had somehow pushed himself to his feet and made his way back to his room in the Templar Hall, dazed the whole way.

By the time he fell into his bed, he was feeling guilt pawing at his thoughts. He had taken advantage of her. She had been drunk – _very drunk_, he noted as he remembered the taste of ale in her mouth – and he had taken advantage of her vulnerable state, kissing her when she couldn't resist him. He cursed himself, a sense of dread growing in his gut. He hadn't _meant_ to do such a thing! It had just… _happened_. And she hadn't_ resisted_ him. She looked and acted as if she'd enjoyed it… He just didn't understand.

He didn't know if he would _ever_ understand.

It was hours before he passed into sleep, and when he did it was haunted by memories of the blood mages' cage.

. . . . .

When Toriana awoke, she felt horribly empty, but instead of resisting she fell into that emptiness with a disturbing sense of thankfulness, of release. The emptiness was an easy way out. She got up, and for once was grateful for the pounding headache to distract her from her thoughts. There was a soft knock at her door as she was splashing water on her face from the basin beside her table, and she felt a vague sense of apprehension that it might be the one man in Thedas she _least_ wanted to see. It would _just_ be her luck if Cullen was standing behind that door.

It was Pater. She sighed in relief as he held out a vial full of a gray-brown potion, "I thought you might want something to help with that hangover," he said wryly, but there was a hint of concern in his eyes that she tried to ignore.

She smiled a small smile, taking the vial from him, and the Commander was back, taking over her body, and she let herself be swept away by the side of her that was all business and did not feel anguish or regret or inner turmoil, only determination and decisiveness with the occasional slice of wry humor. "Thanks," she said, and immediately upturned the potion into her mouth, grimacing at the taste and having to fight back a cough of disgust. "You sure that actually helps and that it's not just a deterrent not to get that drunk again?" she half-joked.

Pater chuckled as he took the vial back, "I'd say it's both, Commander," he said with amusement. "That dwarf made good on his word; there are twenty mercenaries downstairs waiting for you."

Toriana nodded, already feeling the aches in her bodies fade away as the potion began working. "I'll just be a minute."

As she closed the door and buckled herself into her armor, strapping her staff to her back and hiding a dagger at her waist, she didn't think of Cullen or Alistair. She only thought of the mission ahead of her, the darkspawn just waiting for her, and strangely enough it comforted her to know that no matter what might happen in her personal life, there would always be the one constant, unchanging knowledge that there were darkspawn out there. And that she killed them. She was _good_ at killing them.

A strange thing to be reassured by, but she was nonetheless.

When she emerged from her room, she was straight-backed and self-assured again. The mercenaries Varric had gotten for her were sitting at a few tables in the pub downstairs, and when she caught sight of the dwarf talking to one of them she went up to him and clapped a hand on his shoulder, "Thank you."

The blonde dwarf spread his hands and waved her gratitude away, "It was a good trade. I still think I got the better end of the deal," he smirked at her and she smiled back, "You've got a lifetime of stories I think, Hero, just like your cousin and even her boy, and I have a feeling I only heard a small portion of yours last night. Maybe I'll come visit you and Hawke and Blondie at this Keep of yours, sometime… listen to more of your stories."

Toriana grinned, "That sounds good to me. As long as you buy the drinks again."

Varric laughed, "Of course, you know us dwarves and our spirits."

Mage and dwarf have a moment of shared amusement before she bids him farewell and addresses the mercenaries with a commanding speech on the Deep Roads and the darkspawn that is informational with just a hint of warning that if they don't listen to her orders in a heartbeat, they _will_ die. Her Wardens look amused at the nervous, restless shifting that goes through the group at this declaration, and Toriana's grin is almost wolfish, "Now let's pick up our Templars and go kill some darkspawn."

There's a strange, stirring quality to her voice as she says it, and the mercenaries let out a small cheer as the group got up and left The Hanged Man. Moiraine fell into step beside Toriana and chatted with her in an easy, friendly way – not expecting anything from her but friendship – that the Warden-Commander is grateful for.

Cullen was there with the fifteen Templars they were to take with them, standing beside Knight-Commander Kenneth in armor that wasn't his Knight-Commander armor. It was disorienting, to see another man wearing the armor that Tori had started to associate with _him_. And to see Cullen wearing simple plate armor… he looked strange, smaller, and he was avoiding her eyes, looking horribly tired and unhappy. The flash of worry she felt for him made her lips press tighter together and she wondered what he was doing there when he was no longer a Templar. He should be back in their room—_his_ room—resting.

Toriana didn't look at him as she walked up to the new Knight-Commander, nodding politely, "Your men are ready?"

Kenneth nodded, "I told them to pack provisions for two weeks, as you suggested."

She didn't miss the glance out of the corner of his eye to Cullen, as if looking for direction, and she cleared her throat, drawing his gaze back to her. "Good, thank you, Knight-Commander. We'll be heading out immediately." She held out a hand and shook his before turning to stride in front of the three rows of Templars before her.

It was a little unsettling to see those helm-covered heads turn to stare at her, and she felt a bit like she was back in the Circle because her hands started sweating and she wondered what the faces looked like behind all that metal. Templar helms have always unnerved her, more so than any other kind of face-obscuring helmets. The figure they cut looked so… inhuman. It was more than unnerving, especially for a mage.

"Alright, men, it's my job to take care of you," she called out so they could all hear her, clasping her hands behind her back and looking and sounding every bit the Commander. "And in order for me to do _my_ job, you need to do _your_ job, which is do whatever I tell you and stand together. We need to fight as one, as a team." She stared at the covered heads for a few moments before nodding once and turning away.

As their large group headed towards the outer gates of the city, Toriana noticed that Cullen had joined them. Cursing her luck that he had decided to come along instead of stay at the Templar Hall, she realized she wouldn't be able to avoid him any longer if she was to follow her own advice of 'we need to fight as one, as a team.' Toriana shrank back at the idea of speaking to him, but the Commander in her grabbed her firmly by the ear and told her it was her duty and if she just didn't mention the night before then all would be fine.

Steeling herself for the inevitable awkwardness and pulling her Commander mask tighter about her, she slowed her pace just enough to fall into step beside him. He seemed surprised, but still didn't look at her. "Cullen," she said, feeling a twinge of guilt when he winced at her cold tone but determined to press on. "You should stay in Kirkwall and recover your strength."

He glanced at her and then away, "I feel strong enough to fight… Commander." He tagged the title on at the end quickly, as if he had almost forgotten it, and she found she had almost forgotten as well that she was his Commander now. Funny turn of events, a mage commanding a Templar, but she couldn't bring herself to laugh at it. "I was healed well."

Toriana sighed and pressed a hand to her eyes, the Commander in her telling her that he was now her newest Warden and if she was to do her job and try to keep him from getting killed she would have to train him – for he certainly wasn't quite hardened Warden material yet. Of course she could have just passed the task on to Pater, who was more than capable enough to train him, but the look in Cullen's eyes held just a hint of vulnerability and she found she couldn't just abandon him, not when she was the only person in the Wardens he knew. She would have to be the Commander, no matter how awkward it was to do so.

Fighting down the memory-feel of the night before, the shivers that had gone down her spine when he'd buried his fingers in her hair and his chest had rumbled with a mostly-restrained groan, she cleared her throat and spoke in as neutral a voice as she could. "Then you should stick by me, I'll…" she stopped herself from saying _I'll watch over you_; it would sound too… personal. So she quickly altered her words, "I'll teach what it is to be a Grey Warden. Your new abilities, among other things."

He looked stunned for a moment before he recovered, his neck and cheeks flushing a rather amusing shade of red, "I… thank you," he managed to stutter out, still avoiding her eyes and looking as if all the world had suddenly stopped making any semblance of sense to him.

Toriana nodded curtly and resumed her spot at the head of the group, with her Wardens (now including Cullen) behind her and the Templars at the very back of the crowd. It was odd to hear the precisely-timed marching of the Templars, all of their strides perfectly matching each other's. It was more than odd, it was eerie. She tried to ignore it.

The trek to the Deep Roads entrance was faster this time as Tori knew exactly where to go; this time there was no ambush waiting for them in the woods, and as they descended the stairs deep into the earth all was silent save for the sound of breathing and armor clanking and creaking and the occasional gag at the odor. None of the Templars got sick this time, however, and Tori briefly wondered if Tomas was in her group and if he had simply gotten used to the darkspawn stench, or if perhaps he hadn't been chosen this time to come along.

The first day of the hunt was uneventful, with not a single darkspawn in sight or sensed by the Wardens. As they made their camp in the middle of one of the huge halls, Toriana stood on the edge of the group frowning, in deep thought. Not seeing any darkspawn was a bad sign, not a good one like the Templars claimed, and she couldn't shake the bad feeling that was itching in the back of her mind, as if they were expected this time. She tried not to imagine that they were walking into a trap, but the thought kept sneaking back into her head.

The mercenaries were rowdy and overconfident, getting drunk off of liquor she hadn't known they had brought (which irked her, it was a waste of time and effort to carry that much alcohol) as they made their own fire separate from the rest of the group. She butted into their merrymaking and told them they shouldn't be drinking, that it could get them killed if they were ambushed, but they waved her off and one man even whistled lewdly at her. She hadn't seen who it was, and all the other mercenaries seemed to find it hilarious, so as she dropped down to sit by the fire the Templars and her Wardens were circled around, she was needless to say in a rather snappish mood.

Moiraine silently offered her a piece of dry bread and a hunk of salted beef, which she took gratefully and tried to ignore the obscene jokes that were being loudly shared around the other fire, involving women and fish and cheese. Her face was a mottled red and sickly green, and though she forced herself to eat she had no appetite. Pater, on the opposite side of her that Moiraine was on, gave her a supportive pat on the back, but that only made it more awkward because he was almost like a father to her. And it was never reassuring to have your _father_ comfort you when men were beginning to share details of their most recent sexual conquests loud enough for everyone to hear.

Toriana let out a strangled sigh and dropped her head into her hands. _I am going to _kill_ that dwarf for this_.

It was a relief when Moiraine pulled a battered deck of cards from her pack and began playing a game of poker with the other Wardens (excluding Cullen, who was staring into the fire with occasional dark glances towards the mercenaries' fire). A few Templars, now helm-less, Tori was relieved to see, joined in the game cautiously with awkward glances towards the man who had not too long before been their Knight-Commander. But when he didn't spare them a second glance, they loosened up and were soon chatting amicably enough with the Wardens.

As Tori looked about the Templars going about various tasks about the camp – some eating, some trying to sleep, and two keeping watch – she didn't see Tomas's face among them. Curious, she went to sit beside Cullen (whose face turned alarmingly pale when he turned away from glaring at the mercenaries to find her next to him).

"There was a boy among the Templars last time we came here by the name of Tomas," she began without preamble. "I don't see him here now; was he kept in Kirkwall?"

Cullen's expression turned dark and shuttered, and he stared into the fire and for a moment she thought he wouldn't respond, until he finally said, "He's dead."

Toriana jerked as if she had been struck, then regained her composure and swallowed the lump in her throat. Guilt flooded her veins; Tomas had given her his shield when the darkspawn attacked… if he hadn't done so, would he have lived?

_These are not healthy things to think about_, the Commander side of her mind said, but it sounded hollow even in her head. She had felt a fondness for the boy, who had been so fragile when it came to darkspawn but so selflessly brave when he had pushed his shield into her hands and told her to wake his Commander. She had barely _known_ him, but his death was another cut on her soul, another name to add to the list of people who had died for her and because of her. She had barely known him, but it _hurt._

"I see," was all she could trust herself to say without cracking her Commander mask. And then, without another word, she stood and went to her bedroll, where she found sleep quickly. But it was unsatisfying, and she kept dreaming of Tomas, the Templar, giving her his shield and pushing her towards Cullen's sleeping body.


	28. The duty that cannot be forsworn

**Author's Note:** A somewhat lengthy chapter for you, dear readers, I hope you enjoy :)

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><p>"We are going to come across broodmothers at some point," Toriana said quietly to Cullen as they walked side-by-side at the head of their entourage, making sure her voice was low enough that it wouldn't carry over to any of the mercenaries or Templars. She had officially taken to her role of training Cullen that morning, after a solemn breakfast in which the mercs were thankfully too hungover to make much noise. She had abruptly called him up to walk beside her, not long after they broke camp and continued on.<p>

Cullen looked confused, though he had a hint in his eyes that he might be able to guess what she was talking about and didn't like the thought of it. Toriana continued in a grave voice, trying to keep the illness she felt at the topic out of her voice, "They are… they're the breeders of the darkspawn." She swallowed, her throat feeling suddenly sticky, "They are horrid creatures, be warned, and the darkspawn will do all they can to stop us from killing them."

Cullen looked sick and pale, and when he spoke his voice sounded forced, "Those women…"

Toriana grimaced, feeling a sharp pang of guilt, "Three of them were… turned into broodmothers. At least the others died before that could happen." He gave her a sharp, dissenting look, and she leveled him with one of her own, "Would you rather they be turned into twisted, horrible creatures that birth darkspawn?" He didn't answer, and she continued, "Death is merciful by comparison."

That dark thought kept them silent for a while, their embarrassment at being near each other forgotten with their thoughts on the darkspawn. The halls of the Deep Roads were dark and forbidding, lit by an unseen red-hued light source that has always eluded Tori's searches – even after all these years of venturing into the Roads, she still doesn't know what keeps these stretches lit.

Their group was silent, the weight of the stone above them seeming to drag everyone's spirits down, even the normally cheerful Moiraine – who, Tori noticed with a glance over her shoulder, was walking very close to Carver and occasionally bumping her hand into his, which made his cheeks turn pink even as his eyes looked warm. Tori knew it was none of her business if the two had become romantically involved, but she still found herself curious and a bit surprised; she would have thought Carver too sullen and snappish for the redhead. Apparently she was wrong.

Still trapped in her thoughts, she misses it when Cullen speaks and shakes her head to clear it, "Sorry?"

He nodded, unaware that she hadn't heard what he said and apparently thinking that she was responding to him, not looking at her, "Yes, I am. I didn't…" he swallowed, and Tori realized that he's _nervous_, and she instantly becomes so as well, wary of the subject of conversation. "I just wanted to tell you that I wasn't trying to take advantage of you." It comes out in a rush, and they both look stunned at his words.

Toriana knows he's talking about last night, about the… about what they'd done. She had never once thought that he had been trying to take advantage of her (she had responded to him, hadn't she?), but him saying that suddenly makes her warm towards him – the fact that he was so scared she had taken his forwardness the night before as a shady act (when she certainly didn't see it as such) only solidified in her mind the idea she had had since she had known him back at the Tower that he was a good man.

But she doesn't know what to say to his words. She has her Commander mask on and behind it can't fully convey how she's feeling, and she's too scared to take it off for fear that she'll crack again, like she did the night before. And she doesn't wasn't to imagine the taste of his mouth and to feel the guilt over wanting it _again_ because every time she feels a desire for him, she also feels like she's somehow betraying Alistair and it kills her inside.

So Toriana settles for a simple, "Thank you," delivered in a neutral voice. Cullen doesn't seem to know what to make of that, giving her a strange, confused look before turning his attention back to the path ahead of him with a furrowed brow and silence.

The silence is thankfully broken when they come to a split in the road and Pater comes up to walk on her other side and direct her where they should go. Since she hadn't been with them when they'd found the broodmothers, Pater now took the lead as they wound their way through twisting, splitting passages that seemed more maze than road. Everyone was on edge, walking as if they were all ready to jump into battle at any moment. Even the mercenaries were on alert, their hangovers forgotten as the general feeling of foreboding grew and the tension became almost tangible.

Still, there was no sign of darkspawn, and Toriana once again had the feeling that _something_ just wasn't right—and then _there_ was the crawling sensation just under her skin as she sensed them in the distance, that disturbing feeling of _awareness_. Cullen stopped walking, eyes wide and looking as if he might be sick.

Tori stopped with him, nodding to Pater to continue at a slow pace. He gave the newest Warden a sympathetic look – he remembered well his first few days as a Warden – before he led the group on at a slow walk so as not to leave them far behind (they had learned from last time the two had been left behind). She turned to Cullen, "You feel strange, yes?" When he nodded, forehead wrinkled, she continued, "That's the darkspawn you're sensing. At first you'll just know that they're near, but the longer you've had the taint the better you'll be able to pinpoint them, and at longer distances."

He grimaced, amber eyes unhappy, "Does it always feel this…"

"Disturbing? Intruding? Sickening?" When he just looked at her expectantly, she sighed, eyes drifting to the backs of their companions, "I'm afraid so. But you learn to bear it, after a fashion." He doesn't seem too reassured by this, but their group is getting uncomfortably farther and they must go before the darkspawn they sense get closer. "Will you be alright?"

Cullen looked surprised at her concern, but he recovered quickly and nodded, "Yes, I will. I'm just…" he shook his head, "I'll be fine. Thank you."

Toriana nodded and they walked quickly to catch up with their comrades and return to the front of the formation. The presence of darkspawn grew stronger, and she signaled for weapons to be drawn. The grating of blades removed from their sheaths echoes off the wall eerily as she tightened her grasp around her staff, finding comfort in the power it radiated back to her.

Tension emanated from everyone, even the once over-confident mercenaries, as they proceeded at a slow and cautious pace. The Wardens were wound like coils ready to spring, and the non-Wardens sensed the impending danger and reacted in like.

The sense of the darkspawn becomes strong, screaming in Tori's mind that they should be practically on top of them now, but still there is no sign in the large hall in either direction of the creatures, and her instincts are screaming at her that something is wrong, something is _definitely_ wrong, and they shouldn't be here…

And then the wall shatters and the world is engulfed in a deafening explosion.

. . . . .

Cullen is thrown across the hall and slammed into the stone as pieces of what was once the wall on their right side rain down on their group in varying sizes, from man-sized chunks to pebbles. There are cries of pain and then the shrieks and guttural roars of darkspawn, but the blast was so loud and the acoustics of the tunnel made it echo and amplify until his ears rang and he could barely hear even the nearby shouts. Dust and smoke from the explosion is everywhere and he cannot see a thing. The thickness in the air burns in his nose and throat, and he can feel tears trailing down his cheeks as his eyes desperately try to clear themselves of the painfully abrasive material.

His ears are ringing and they hurt so badly and suddenly he cannot hear anything but that high, sharp sound. When he lifts his hands to his ears they come away bloody and he panics, wondering if bleeding ears is a precursor to death and if his brain had been ruptured somehow. But though he still feels a bit stunned from the blast and the collision with the opposite wall (he can feel a bump on his head and a headache starting), his mind seems to be working fine.

His new Grey Warden sense is shrieking at him that _there are darkspawn, and they are close!_ He casts a look about for his sword and shield, lost in the blast, and finds them in a heap only a few feet away, grateful for that luck and for the gradually clearing dust. There are no darkspawn around him (yet), but he can barely see the tip of a blood red staff on the ground through the haze…

"Toriana!" he calls out, or at least he thinks he does because he cannot hear a thing beyond the grating whine in his head that makes him want to grit his teeth and close his eyes. He stumbled towards the staff, anxiety rising in his chest when he sees a limp hand inches from it, and dropped to his knees beside Tori's unconscious body.

Cullen's breath stops for a minute when he sees blood oozing from her nostrils and dripping down her pale face, looking like a macabre painting of a beautiful noblewoman, but he gives a sigh of relief when he sees her chest rise and fall. He tries calling her name again, still met with only ringing silence, and then shakes her shoulder.

Her eyes open with a flutter and she gasps and coughs, sitting up and clutching at her side in pain. Once she's caught her breath she looks at him and says something, but he shakes his head and points to his bleeding ears. She grimaces but does not look as if she thinks he will die, so he is somewhat reassured. Her hand flares with a blue light and when she touches his temple lightly he has to resist his instinct to jerk away and use his Templar powers to stop her; he feels a strange sucking, needle-sharp pain and then the ringing is gone, replaced by the muffled sounds of the world about him. He can hear the clashing and shouts of battle, now, and he tenses and turns warily about, but he still can hardly see anything through the dust.

"Are you injured anywhere else?" He barely hears Toriana – his ears now feel as if they've been stuffed with cotton, but at least the pain and the complete deafness have gone. He shakes his head as he holds out a hand to help her up, and she gestures towards the sounds of fighting, "Stay close," is all she says before she starts stalking towards it, looking for all the world like a panther ready to pounce at a moment's notice, bloody and fierce.

He doesn't have to be told twice and sticks close to her side, feeling crippled by his weakened hearing and the obscured view. His heart is racing and he's determined not to let either Toriana or himself get injured this time; after he accidentally jostles her arm for the third time, she puts her hand on his arm briefly to get his attention and raises her eyebrow down at the arm he keeps running into, clearly unamused. He takes the hint and gives her a few inches of space, but only a few.

It's almost as if they're in another world, walking through the thick smoke and settling dust, but it doesn't last long. Suddenly they're in the midst of battle, defending themselves as wave after wave of hurlocks and genlocks and shrieks come at them. Mage and Templar work in a surprising tandem, Tori dodging out of the reach of Cullen's blade and he jumping out of the way of her mass-effecting spells as they fell monster after monster.

It was a new and exhilarating thing to Cullen, to fight as one entity, and he wondered if this was part of what it meant to be a Grey Warden. It was _strange_ to be in such close concert with a magic-user, and a few times he caught himself instinctively gathering his will to suppress her spells, but he gradually learned to acclimatize to her and to _trust_ her – at least enough so that he wasn't constantly preparing to defend himself against her magic.

There was a short lull in which they had killed all of the darkspawn that had come at them and were now joined by three Templars and five mercenaries that were wild-eyed and covered in black, tainted blood. Cullen could feel the tingling sensation of magic being cast, and a glance to Toriana showed him that she was not the culprit, "There's a… a mage about," he said to her, a bit bewildered as to what a mage would be doing down here in the damned Deep Roads and unaware of how loudly he was talking until she winced and made a shushing noise at him. He really needed to get his hearing fully back.

Toriana's face darkened, "An emissary," she growled and he could hardly hear with his ears in such a state. She hefted her staff and lifted her chin and looked for all the world like she was _smelling_ the air. Then, with a quick call to the group that had gathered about them, she started walking with a grimly determined gait as if she knew exactly where she was going.

Cullen didn't know what an emissary was, but he was guessing it was some sort of darkspawn. A magic-using darkspawn. That thought was not particularly comforting. He once again stayed close beside Toriana as she continued onward, preparing his mind and body to use the talents he had learned from the Templars as soon as he saw the emissary.

He felt it in the rumbling floor before he saw the giant ogre charging towards them. This time he was swift enough to get out of the way, grabbing Toriana's arm and dragging her with him as the men behind them scattered desperately. The ogre stopped, looking bewildered for a moment as to where its intended prey had gone before it spotted one of the Templars that had fallen in his scramble to get out of the way and began lumbering towards it.

Toriana wrenched her arm out of Cullen's grasp and ran towards it with a quickness that startled him, and before he could stop her she was standing before it, staff whirring and flames beginning to shoot out of the end of it. The darkspawn looked almost incredulous, if such monsters could feel such a thing, and let out a roar before it reached out a clawed hand towards her.

Cullen felt his stomach plummet and made to lunge forward and throw himself between the ogre and Toriana when suddenly she was engulfed in flames. He skidded to a halt, alarmed and unsure what to do; the ogre seemed just as unsure. And then the flames expanded outward in a firestorm, roasting the air until Cullen could hardly breathe from the dry heat of it and the fire licked out to devour the monster before her.

The ogre roared and shrieked, clawing at itself as if that would put out the flames, but eventually it fell to the ground with a resounding crash and the flames died away, leaving just Tori standing there unharmed and looking grimly satisfied as she reached out a hand to pull up the Templar she had saved. The man looked as if he would rather do anything than take her hand, but apparently was too frightened to resist her and let her yank him to his feet, immediately letting go as soon as he was upright and backing away a couple of feet.

Toriana seemed to take it in stride, merely rolling her eyes as she turned away from the man and muttering something that Cullen was fairly sure was along the lines of "paranoid Templars." Once she had gathered their group about them again – and discovered two more mercenaries through the smoke – they set off again, Toriana in the lead.

The smoke began to clear, and the dust was settling, so now they could see a single genlock surrounded by four mercenaries. Toriana opened her mouth to call out a warning, but the men didn't hear, leaping forward to attack the darkspawn. And within seconds all four of them were dead and the tang of magic was in the air as the genlock turned towards the newcomers with Cullen could swear was a cackle.

Toriana turned to the men behind them and said something that Cullen didn't catch, but soon they were nodding and disappearing into the smoke (and he really hoped she had told them to ambush the emissary from behind or something because there was no way they could kill that thing just the two of them). Now she looked at him, "Now would be the time for some smiting!" she said loud enough for him to hear before she jumped toward the emissary, shooting a gust of freezing air at it as she did so.

Cullen tried calling her back, but she didn't listen, and he swore and started forward as well, gathering his will and sending it at the emissary in a rush. It hit his target, and the genlock looked shocked as it reeled from losing its magic for just a split second before Toriana's staff neatly separated its head from its shoulders.

Well. He hadn't expected that to be so easy. Maybe his Templar talents _would_ come in handy for the Grey Wardens after all.

Cullen and Toriana continued through the clearing smoke, killing darkspawn wherever they found them and Tori dropping to heal any of their injured men they found. But there were many beyond healing, many who lay dead or dying who she could not help. Those who were near death, Cullen was startled to see, she ended their suffering with a swift dagger to the heart. When he questioned her about it, she told him that ending it now would save them from a slow, painful death. Though he was still a little uneasy about it, he understood.

Toriana was paying more attention than he was, for he surely would have missed the body half-crushed beneath one of the giant sections of wall from the explosion. She didn't, and when she got closer to study it she let out a heart-wrenching cry and dropped beside it. Cullen stayed wary of their surroundings, keeping an eye out for more darkspawn, but when he glanced down he recognized the face of one of the Wardens: Pater.

He thought the man was already dead, but he slowly opened his eyes and said something to Tori too low for Cullen to hear. She was shaking her head, and though Cullen couldn't see her face from where he was he could guess that her expression was stricken. After a brief exchange, she finally pulled the dagger from her belt. Pater raised a hand to her cheek and said one last thing before she drove the blade between his ribs and into his heart.

Toriana didn't move for a long time. She sat there beside the Warden's lifeless body, looking hunched and miserable; though he wanted to comfort her and he knew that this was not a good place to be sitting, Cullen didn't want to intrude on her obvious grief and so silently kept guard over her.

When she finally stood, her face was a mask of calm. She led Cullen away and towards where she sensed more darkspawn, and after fighting and fighting, they found the rest of their companions and managed to slay the last of the monsters. By the end everyone was shaking with fatigue, looking dead on their feet and most with injuries that Toriana could no longer heal because her mana was depleted.

Their numbers were far fewer than they had been. Only ten Templars and seven mercenaries remained. And only five Grey Wardens.

Toriana, as cold and distant as the stone, ordered the collection and burning of all the bodies – the darkspawn in one pile and the people in another. In the hours that it took to search all the bodies for anything of use (Cullen was vaguely sickened by the sight of people going through the packs of men who had been their comrades, but then maybe this was one of the things Tori had meant when she said that Grey Wardens did what they must) and then move them into the piles of burning bodies, Toriana remained emotionless and commanding, not letting on to her exhaustion and not showing even a hint of grief.

He knew it was there, beneath the surface, he could see it in her dark eyes; he wondered that she could keep it contained, especially when the Wardens – silent and solemn – retrieved Pater's body and added it to the fire. The Grey Wardens stood a silent vigil around the fire, heads bowed in respect and mourning for the brother they had lost, until Pater's body was burned to ashes and they resumed their duties.

Toriana stood a few minutes longer, staring into the fire, and for a moment Cullen could have sworn that he saw her blinking away tears before she turned away and called for their company to move on.

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><p><strong>In memory of Tomas and Pater, who died for a greater cause :(<strong>

**Is it sad that I'm going to miss them?  
><strong>


	29. Back to the Surface

**Author's Note:** I'm not too impressed by this chapter, it feels a bit rushed in my opinion, but it was mostly a lot of fighting and walking and I don't want to describe _every _single fight in detail, because that would get _very_ old, _very_ quickly. But! Now they're out of the Deep Roads, which means more juicy things to come ;D

I'm thinking, however, of ending AUA soon and doing a sequel, because I don't want to have a story that has a hundred chapters, that can seem very daunting to new readers (and myself, haha). So would any of you mind terribly if I were to split Tori and Cullen's story into two parts? If anyone has any real complaints against it, I won't do it, but otherwise I'll be ending AUA in a few chapters and starting the sequel.

Also, thanks again to everyone who reviews, I love it and I really appreciate it, you are all - in Zevran's words - ridiculously awesome! I couldn't continue to write (at least, not this quickly) without you! :) A very special thank you goes out to Allie, Kiki Aries, and Aya-Chan4861, who have stuck with me for so long and always take the time to write reviews (which always leave me strutting and preening like a peacock after I read them, that's how ego-boosting they are). You three are especially special, thank you so much :)

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><p>Cullen was starting to hate the Deep Roads with every fiber of his being.<p>

The stench of darkspawn clung to his armor, his skin, his hair, and he couldn't get away from the smell no matter how he tried. He smelled it in his sleep, which was plagued by the monsters they hunted and whispers in the deep. He barely slept, and when he did he always awoke on the edge of panic with his nightmares still in his mind and his heart racing. Every time he awoke, Toriana was sitting on her bedroll, large eyes staring sightlessly down the hall, and he began to wonder if she slept at all. The shadows under her eyes and the paleness of her face said she didn't.

The Deep Roads seemed to be taking a toll on everyone in their company, especially in the two days since the explosive ambush. The Templars and mercenaries were nervous, jumping at every sound and suffering nightmares that left them exhausted. The Wardens merely looked grim and tired, and Cullen wondered if they shared the same nightmares of darkspawn he had or if every Warden had different dreams of them.

The Deep Roads were an evil, desolate place.

Mekel took the role of guide in Pater's absence, leading them closer and closer to the broodmothers the Wardens had found in their previous excursion. Cullen stuck close to Toriana's side, despite the fact she was about as warm as a block of ice and did not talk unless it was to give orders. He stayed silent as well, but eventually he couldn't keep his curiosity and bewilderment at the explosion to himself; he had to know, for his own peace of mind. He had never seen an explosion like that save for the destruction of the Kirkwall Chantry – which had been on a much larger scale – and the paranoid part of his mind told him that it was magic's doing. His training hissed that people who could cause such destruction should not be able to run free; he fought it down as he looked over at Tori.

"The explosion…" he began, wincing when Toriana's eyes fixed on him with an emptiness that frightened him, "What sort of magic was that?"

Her lips pressed together tightly for a moment before she answered in clipped tones, "That was no magic. Explosives are a work of science."

Cullen's brow furrowed; _science?_ The only thing he had heard of science was from the lay sisters who said that it was a dangerous, heathen art. She caught his incredulous look and elaborated, "There are chemicals… certain materials that you can mix together, and when exposed to heat they combust. We once had a dwarf at the Keep who specialized in such things, but he left years ago." She frowned, eyes dark and seeming very far away as she continued, "My guess is that the emissary stole the explosives, or somehow… learned to create them."

A darkspawn, learning? That didn't sound promising. "Can they do that? Learn," he clarified when she looked at him blankly.

She nodded slowly, her expression wary and veiled, "I've found darkspawn who could think, learn… speak." Cullen gaped at this – weren't darkspawn all mindless monsters? She didn't seem keen on explaining, however. "I wouldn't be surprised to find that this one figured it out on its own."

And with that, Toriana shut off, facing ahead once more and clearly done talking. Cullen gave a barely audible sigh and resumed his silent walking.

He hated the Deep Roads, and darkspawn even more.

It was three days after the emissary's attack (during which they found many smaller groups of darkspawn and dispatched them easily) that they found the broodmothers.

Cullen had to swallow down the bile rising in his throat at the sight of the swollen, tainted… _things_. They were barely recognizable as once being human, and now, seeing firsthand what became of women captured by the darkspawn, he understood why Toriana had reacted so viciously when he'd told her that some women were taken captive.

Their company was standing on a wide ledge overlooking the cavern, where they could see the darkspawn but the darkspawn could not see them. Toriana signaled for absolute silence as she surveyed the scene, and he could see her mind working as she frowned down at the three broodmothers gurgling and shrieking below them, tentacles waving in a gruesome mockery of arms. Swarms of what Toriana had told him were called _Children_ scuttled around the tentacled monstrosities in various forms of development. Some were wriggling larvae and some had full legs and scythe-like arms. It was a disturbing sight, to say the least.

After a few minutes Toriana gestured for everyone to follow her back into the narrow tunnel they had come from, to a small cavern a short distance away from which they wouldn't be heard. "Head back to the surface," she ordered, standing at the front of the group with a stiff, commanding posture that did not warrant any argument. "With the broodmothers so close together, I can kill them all with a blizzard and we can head home." There was a short murmur of appreciation from the mercenaries and Templars.

"Mekel and Cullen will stay with me. Moiraine and Carver, you lead the men towards the surface and we'll follow as soon as we can. Be prepared to meet some resistance on the way." The man and woman in question nodded, and Moiraine began giving orders to the men as they headed back in the direction they had come from.

Once the three of them were alone, Toriana turned to Cullen with as serious an expression he had ever seen her wear, "This spell will be massive, and there's a good chance that the power of it will attract the attention of a demon." He paled at that, but didn't speak and so she continued, "You know what you might have to do."

Cullen swallowed hard, finding it suddenly difficult, "You're asking me to…"

"To kill me if I become possessed." She said in such a calm, emotionless voice that he wondered _how_ she could just face the possibility of her death without so much of a blink of an eye. Was it something the Wardens had taught her? To be cold and calculating, even when facing the worst one could imagine?

No, it couldn't be, he told himself as he remembered her back in Kirkwall, awakening frantic and sobbing and clinging to him as if he was the only thing between herself and insanity. Or the night before they'd left on this expedition, when she'd spoken to a King who was not there and looked so broken inside. He knew she felt pain, misery, sadness… So then was this just an act? And for whose benefit was she maintaining her outward calm?

Cullen was barely aware as he nodded, swallowing again and again and being unable to wet the dryness in his throat. The other Warden, Mekel, nodded to her when she gave him a questioning look, and then she turned and walked back towards the broodmothers.

As he stood beside her on the outcropping, his sword drawn and ready, he could feel the power within her building and growing into a tempest within her, until her whole body crackled with magic that made his skin itch. He dutifully stayed by her side, prepared for the worst but hoping for the best. It reminded him horribly of her Harrowing, of her lying defenseless beneath the edge of his blade and him sweating and frantically wishing that she would wake up, wake up…

Cullen couldn't bear the thought of having to kill her.

But he would do it if he had to; he knew this. If it came to it, he would kill the woman he had longed for for nearly sixteen years of his life – for his duty, and for her, because he could think of few worse fates than becoming possessed and losing who you were. That didn't mean he had to like the idea of it.

He could feel the Veil growing thinner as she held on to her spell, magnifying it within her, and he could sense the straining of her body trying to contain it. Sweat broke out on her brow above her blank, unseeing eyes that were half in the Fade, and her arms trembled where they held her staff aloft.

Toriana's spell was released with such suddenness that Cullen jumped in alarm as the cavern before them dropped in temperature so low that frost formed on their armor and encrusted their hair. Gale-force wind howled through the chamber, carrying shards of ice and wisps of snow that crashed into the broodmothers below, pummeling them and their half-frozen Children. Their inhuman shrieks and bellows were lost in the roar of the wind as they were beaten or frozen to death.

The Veil was growing dangerously thin the longer she held the spell, but even though the darkspawn below them were dead she was not stopping. Her breaths were coming out in clouds and her lips were blue from the cold, her eyes wide and vacant and holding a hint of the purple that he had been told was reminiscent of the Fade. There were things on the other side of the Veil, waiting like starving hounds one the other side of a rapidly crumbling fence where a wounded fox lay helpless.

Cullen could barely move from the cold, but he managed to put a hand on her shoulder and shake her, calling her name. She did not respond and he swore and began gathering his mind, hoping she wouldn't hate him for what he was about to do…

With a push of willpower, Cullen stripped her of all of her mana.

Toriana gasped as if she had been stabbed and her staff clattered to the floor as she stumbled back, hands flying to her head and looking panicked. Her spell died away and the temperature slowly began to return to normal, leaving behind the corpses of the darkspawn lying in the bottom of the cavern. More importantly, Cullen could feel the tremble of the Veil going back to normal, and he sighed in relief.

Toriana, however, was giving him a scandalized look, "Y-you smote me," she croaked in a voice that was raw and weak.

Cullen grimaced, "You were about to either tear the Veil or kill us with that spell. I did what I had to." She still looked stricken, gasping for air with wide eyes and seeming on the verge of either tears or screams. He had seen mages stripped of their mana before, and they had worn the same horrified look as she had now. Was it truly so terrible for them? "I'm sorry." But he wasn't sorry he had smote her, because he had saved her life in doing so; he was merely sorry that it was clearly so horrible a thing to go through.

Her lips twisted, and for a moment he thought she was going to shout at him, but she merely grimaced and clutched at her head, muttering under her breath about her head splitting open. As she picked up her staff he made to sheath his sword and she stopped him, "There will likely be darkspawn on the way out, and since now I have no _mana_ to defend myself, you better keep that out and get ready to kill some monsters." Her voice was biting and irritable, and though he felt his own irritation building towards her that she was taking it out on him when _she_ had been the one to nearly kill them, he obeyed without further response.

They caught up with the rest of their group after only an hour, despite the fact Toriana was too weak to manage more than a moderately swift walk, as the larger group was locked in battle with a horde of darkspawn three times their number. Cullen stayed close by the Warden-Commander's side as she made an attempt to join the fighting, using her blade-ended staff like a fauchard. She wasn't entirely effective, but she managed to kill a few darkspawn, and those she could not Cullen took care of with a swift blade.

Now joined up with the rest of their group, they made it through the Deep Roads faster, tearing through any darkspawn they came across with fervor. Everyone knew that home and safety were nearing them, and despite their fatigue were fighting as hard as they could to get through it faster. At some point Toriana finds a few lyrium potions on one of the darkspawn and drinks them all as if she's desperate, and then she's brimming with magical energy and their path through the Deep Roads seems to go even faster as she burns and freezes all the darkspawn in their way.

Even at an increased speed, it takes four days to return to the surface, and during the whole trek Toriana says no more than the orders to set up or break camp every night and morning. Cullen still wakes from nightmares, and he still sees her every night sitting and staring into the fire as if she's in another world entirely.

And then it's almost like a dream when they begin climbing the stairs that lead to the surface, and when they emerge from the hole in the ground the light is blinding after the near-darkness of the Deep Roads, and it takes everyone a few minutes for their eyes to adjust to the afternoon sun. The remaining mercenaries whoop and cheer, and even the Templars give wearied sighs of relief, but the Grey Wardens stay silent as they continue to walk, eyes dark and weary. Cullen can see the grief in their faces (even though they try to hide it), in the way they cast one final look back to the entrance of the Deep Roads before they disappear through the trees, and the line Toriana had said during his Joining comes to mind.

_And should you perish, know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten, and that one day we shall join you._


	30. Horses and New Beginnings

**Author's Note:** And here, my friends, is the very last chapter of An Uneasy Alliance! Thank you to everyone for all of your support, I really, really appreciate it! :)

Tori and Cullen's story is nowhere near finished, however! Their saga continues with the sequel to AUA: The Things We Carry. I'll be posting the first chapter of that story right away here so you all don't have to wait ;)

Thanks again, faithful readers - without you I likely wouldn't have had the heart to write this whole thing :) I'll see you all over at TTWC!

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><p>Toriana dropped herself into her bed at The Hanged Man, utterly exhausted. Her hair was damp from her bath, and her bare skin was still flushed from the heat of the water. She was glad to be out of the Deep Roads – no matter how many times she ventured into them, she still always came out feeling disgusting and <em>wrong<em> – but her heart was heavy.

They had rid Kirkwall of its darkspawn problem, but at what cost?

She closed her eyes and refused to think of Pater, of the guilt and sorrow that was eating at her as surely as a Deep Stalker acid eats at the stone. For once she was thankful that she had hardly slept since his death, because now she was far too exhausted to think before she fell into sleep.

When she awoke it was early morning, and she could hear the sounds of the kitchens just starting to come to life downstairs. Heeding the grumbling of her stomach, she dressed in a simple shirt and pants and ventured downstairs. Mekel and Cullen were already at a table, eating silently, and she joined them with her own plate, purposely not sitting in the open seat next to Cullen. She hadn't forgotten the last two nights in Kirkwall, and though she was determined to put it behind her she didn't trust herself to be so close to him, where she could feel the heat radiating off of him and run the risk of feeling that _feeling_ again, the one that made her think of Alistair.

Cullen raised his eyes to say 'good morning, Toriana' and Mekel grumbled out a 'Commander,' to which she nodded in acknowledgement before she started eating. Cullen seemed to remember that he was a Grey Warden now and hastily corrected himself with 'ah, _Commander_.'

Breakfast passed in silence until Moiraine and Carver came down the stairs side-by-side, the redhead's eyes crinkled in a laugh and the Hawke brother smiling at her as if she were the only person in the room. They joined the table with greetings, Moiraine dropping into the seat beside her Commander and immediately began chatting away with her.

"Are we leaving today, Commander?" she asked in between bites of her breakfast.

Toriana nodded, "I was hoping to leave shortly after we finish eating. Where might we buy horses?" This was directed at Cullen, who jumped when he realized she was speaking to him and hastily swallowed his mouthful.

"There is a stable with finely-bred horses near the main city gates."

"We're not going to charter a boat?" Moiraine asked, "By horseback the trip will take over two months!"

Toriana scowled, "We're _not_ going by boat," she growled, and Moiraine and Carver shared a look before they burst out laughing. Mekel joined in and only Cullen was left looking bewildered and Tori sat glaring at them.

"I… don't understand, is there something I'm missing?" Cullen asked faintly, looking between the laughing Wardens and the silently fuming Commander.

Before Tori could reply, Moiraine giggled out, "The Commander gets seasick," earning her a death glare from the Warden-Commander.

Toriana cleared her throat and put on a neutral expression as if the conversation hadn't happened, "If any of you have any business in the city before we leave, you'd best do it now." She stood, back straight, "Meet me at the stables in half an hour." And with that, she returned to her room upstairs to don her armor and retrieve her staff.

When she came back down the stairs, Cullen was the only Warden who remained, standing with a creak of armor when he saw her. "Tor—Commander," he caught himself quickly, "If you're headed to the stables now, I would ask if it's alright if I accompany you."

The formality of his tone and words stunned her into silence for a moment, and he fidgeted slightly under her gaze until she said, "Alright, come on, then."

They were silent on the walk to the stables, but Tori was surprised that it was a rather comfortable silence. It didn't feel awkward to just walk through the city with him, not speaking – quite the opposite, it had an almost calming effect on her.

The stable master was a bitter old man who took one look at the staff on her back and scowled darkly as if she were the scourge of the earth. When she requested five horses and one packhorse, he spit on the ground and told her he didn't have a packhorse to spare and that five good riding horses would be expensive.

Toriana took a few deep breaths to calm her temper before she responded, "I'll pay the price, and for all of the tack required as well. Now, the horses, if you please?" The politeness in her voice was almost biting, and the man seemed to catch on, scowling even more intensely.

When he led out two of the horses and handed the reins to the two of them before disappearing back into the stables, she backed away slowly, holding her reins as far away from herself as she could as the black stallion attached let out a piercing neigh and reared up slightly, hooves knifing through the air. A flash of memory returned to her, from when she was a child, being bucked off of her father's fiery-tempered horse and breaking her arm, and she suddenly wanted nothing more than to drop the reins in her hand.

Cullen noticed the stiffening in Toriana's posture, the flash of anxiety in her eyes, as her horse tugged and struggled against the reins. Still holding his own horse's reins, he took hold of her stallion's reins and looked at her, "Are you afraid of horses?"

He realized too late that he probably shouldn't have worded it quite so when she glared at him, "_No_, I just don't like feral _beasts_," she spat, giving a rather aggressive look to the stallion who was now chewing at his bit and stomping the ground and looking just as unimpressed with her as she was with him.

"Here, you can take this one." Cullen handed her the reins to his own horse, a rather docile-looking, round-bellied buckskin gelding, and turned to place a gentle hand on the nose of the stallion. Though the creature snorted and shook its head for a moment, it eventually calmed enough to let Cullen move to its side and check the straps around its belly and leading up to its head.

Toriana huffed, glaring at the black beast one last time before turning to her new horse warily. But this one seemed entirely complacent, head bowed as it looked at her with large, gentle brown eyes. "Okay," she says under breath, as if she's steeling herself, "You're not so bad. Not a brute like that one over there." The gelding nickers softly, and she ventures to put a hand on its head, lightly stroking it and ready at a moment's notice to jerk her hand away if it decides to bite. It doesn't.

"Nice pony, Commander." Toriana turned to scowl at Carver and Moiraine as they came in, the redhead giggling at Carver's teasing.

"Don't listen to them, I like ponies," she whispered conspiratorially to the horse, who merely lets out a deep breath that has her pulling her hand away nervously, eying its mouth in which she _knows_ are vicious teeth, because now she remembers _another_ time when her father's awful horse bit her on the shoulder and it had hurt like sin.

Cullen caught what she said and gave her a small, amused smile, "He _is_ a horse, not a pony. And he's not going to bite you… Are you _sure_ you're not afraid of horses?"

She doesn't particularly like the mildly teasing note in his voice, or the twinkle in his eyes, and makes a face at her horse so that she doesn't make it at Cullen, "I'm _not_ scared of them!" she asserts, cheeks flushing, "I just… They're very big. I'm a cautious person." The muffled laughter behind her makes her face turn even redder, and when Cullen starts to grin she can't take it anymore. She'll _show_ them, the jerks.

With a determined scowl, she walks around to the horse's side (a safe distance from its mouth, of course) and hefts herself up into the saddle with a grunt. But she hasn't been on a horse since the Templars first brought her to the Tower,and never before on her own, and when it shifts its weight beneath her she finds her balance floundering and she starts to slip sideways. She scrabbles desperately to try to keep her place on its back and accidentally grabs a fistful of mane along with the reins and gives a hard yank as she tries to pull herself upright. The horse gives a short shriek of pain and takes off, with Toriana barely clinging onto its back and letting out a string of curses that would make a sailor blush.

Luckily the doors at the opposite end of the stable are closed and with nowhere to run to, the horse skids to a halt abruptly, sending Toriana flying ungracefully over its shoulder to land flat on her back on the hard ground. With the wind knocked out of her all she can do is stare at the horse's head above her own and flush to the roots of her hair when the sound of Moiraine and Cullen's laughter hits her ears.

She officially _hates_ horses.

Her embarrassment is only made worse when Cullen bends over her with a concerned look on his face and asks if she's alright.

She scowled and clambered to her feet on her own, ignoring his outstretched hand, "I'm fine," _just a little wounded pride, _thanks. The look she gives her horse, who is looking rather pleased with himself she notes, is _anything_ but friendly.

Moiraine and Carver seemed to have no troubles with their horses as they mounted them, and when Mekel showed up his horse seemed to be just fine with him climbing up onto its back. Toriana felt just a _little_ irritated.

Cullen noticed and wiped the entertained grin off of his face (even if it was just so _funny_ that Toriana seemed so strong and indomitable, and in the end she can't handle a simple _horse_), "I can teach you to ride a horse, if you'd like. Templars learn to ride early in their training." He tried to make his voice as far from teasing as he could, and she seemed to calm a bit when she sensed he wasn't trying to make fun of her.

"Fine. But as soon as you laugh I'm… I'm going to beat you over the head with my staff." Her threat was halfhearted, and she looked more tired of struggling with the horse than anything.

"Maybe we should just walk the horses until we're out of the city and we get to some grass?"

Toriana seemed to relax at his suggestion and nodded, "Good idea." She took up her horses reins in her hand and led it back to the rest of the Wardens, where she paid the smirking stablemaster (and she managed to keep herself from _punching_ him; Wynne would be proud of her restraint) and they left, she and Cullen leading their horses on foot, and the rest on the backs of their mounts. After a quick stop at a merchant to pick up supplies, they were on their way.

As they walked through the gates of Kirkwall, Cullen took one last look back at the city that had been his home for nine years and felt a pang of sadness to see it go. True, it was a city full of problems and corruption and suffering, but he had _lived_ there for a great part of his life. He had protected its people, befriended its Champion, trained and commanded its Templars. And it was here that he had regained his fragile mind, that he had recovered from the horrors of his cage in the Circle and learned to be a _whole_ man again. He would miss it.

He turned and looked at Toriana walking beside him, her hair glossy in the sunlight and her brown eyes back to their beautiful chocolate-y brown they had been before the night he had comforted her after she awoke in a terror; she was talking to her horse in low undertones and he barely caught her muttering "I'll be nice to you if you're nice to me, you big beast – I've killed things twenty times your size, and with _fangs_." The horse whickered, and she gave it a wry look, "I've got some sugar cubes in my pack. If you're good I just might give you some."

And as he watched her turn and see him looking at her, a blush rising in her cheeks that made her look _beyond_ beautiful, he didn't regret one thing.

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><p><strong>Don't hesitate to hop on over to The Things We Carry, the sequel to An Uneasy Alliance :)<strong>


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